


Murphy's Law

by Decemberangel



Series: Alphabet Soup [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anchors, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Jordan Parrish, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Camping, Character Death, Derek is a Failwolf, Happy Ending, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, Hurt Stiles, Lawyer Peter Hale, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Mates, Minor Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Original Character(s), Sick Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Surfer Stiles Stilinski, Touch-Starved Peter Hale, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, new pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decemberangel/pseuds/Decemberangel
Summary: There are four things Stiles knows to be undeniably true. Four things to which he lives by. Four things Stiles has sadly been victim to. The first thing that Stiles knows to be certainly true, lives by and has been victim to on more than one, no, more than many occasions, is that Murphy’s Law is a very accurate description of his life. His life is Murphy’s law. This might be the most important of the four things.





	1. Absolute Mess

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like! Let me know what you think.

There are four things Stiles knows to be undeniably true. Four things to which he lives by. Four things Stiles has sadly been victim to. The first thing that Stiles knows to be certainly true, lives by and has been victim to on more than one, no, more than many occasions, is that Murphy’s Law is a very accurate description of his life. His life  _ is _ Murphy’s law. This might be the most important of the four things. 

Why?

Because this thing has often guided his thinking. This thing has changed how he sees people, events and how he acts. 

_ No, I shouldn’t go into the woods tonight because Dad said I shouldn’t. I could get hurt and I could. . . _

_ but we could find the body. . . _

_ Murphy’s law, Stiles, Murphy’s law. . .   _

_ Well, I told myself, I distinctly remember telling myself what could go wrong and everything I told myself was baby shit compared to this. . . _

Stiles’ life is so guided by Murphy’s Law that no matter what he does, he’s always aware of how wrong things could go. As such, he knew exactly how badly things could get when his father started drinking again. He knew what would happen when, in a tight bind, he went to Derek’s place for solace, and he knew just what would happen when Scott finally realized how upset he was with Stiles. 

Murphy’s law is a bitch.

But Stiles couldn’t seem to escape its grasp.

It started on a Tuesday. When his father came home from his third night shift in a row and pulled out the liquor. They had long since told him about all the supernatural shit going on in the town, but the Sheriff hasn’t been dealing with it as well as Stiles would hope. No, the Sheriff comes home off of his shifts tired and so deeply upset. Stiles doesn’t understand why, it’s not like he’s been fighting any of the threats that Stiles has for nearly as long. Stiles knows that his father is upset about the lying. The constant lying. Stiles thinks his father’s anger is stemmed from his betrayal. There’s nothing Stiles can do about that. Not anymore. No, all Stiles can do is watch his father drink, watch his father leave again before they can talk about the shit between them. No, all Stiles can do is watch. And feel all of the blame, all of the shame, all of the apathy, placed on his shoulders. And every time he sees his father raise that damn bottle, not even bothering with a glass, a little piece of him falls away knowing that it’s his fault. He feels like he’s eleven years old again, watching from behind the banister as his father takes to the drink. It feels like he’s losing another parent.

That’s Murphy’s Law.

His father could have reacted to knowing about the supernatural much better than he was. He could have been happy that his son had finally come clean about what he had been doing. He could have found acceptance in it, knowing that he wasn’t a shitty Sheriff, that he wasn’t a failure as his town’s protector, but he didn’t. He reacted in the worst way that could have happened. 

That’s Murphy’s Law for you.

Then things got better. Everything that happened throughout high school, there was hardly ever tme for Noah to drink. Things got better. It felt like they were a family again. His father was a father again. Through all the shit that happened with the dread doctors, then with the hunt, his father was everything he wanted. He didn’t thikn that things would go south so quickly. Stiles chalks it up to all the drinking. Then when he went away to college he was gone so long, his father stopped talking as much, he started drinking more. He relapsed. His alcohol addiction was too much and he knew it when he came back to help Scott yet again. Then somehow all the blame got put on him for everything wrong he did. 

Murphy’s law. 

All Stiles can do, is seek out solace and stability in someone else. So he searches for that person. It was foolish of him to think that Scott would be there for him. Not with everything going on in his life. With him fighting on a nightly basis, his grades suffering because without him the entire town would fall to pieces, his mother working extra shifts to pay bills, and a handful of other things going wrong because he’s a werewolf. Stiles knew that at some point, Scott would tell him that he was too busy, he’s too tired, too uninterested in  _ his _ problems. Despite the fact that Stiles himself bears the weight of all of Scott’s problems too. Stiles knew that Scott wouldn’t be able to handle someone else’s issues. It’s been a long time since Scott’s listened to Stiles’ issues. The issues just kept coming.

Scott is busy. He’s busy “rehabilitating” Theo. He’s busy trying to make the world a better place. Theo needs his help learning to be a better person. Theo needs help relating to others. Theo needs help growing a conscience.  _ Theo needs help more than Stiles does. _

Then Liam needs help controlling his anger. Liam needs help figuring out how to manage his wolf. Liam needs Scott.  _ Liam needs Scott more than Stiles does. _

Just two examples.

Stiles understands. He really does. When he saw Theo coming into the picture, he knew that Theo would end up needing Scott in more ways that they could even know.

Stiles understands. He really does. When Liam was being a pain in the ass and ended up a werewolf, Stiles knew that this could only cost more from Scott, more from their friendship. Stiles  _ knew.  _

That’s Murphy’s law. 

Isaac is long gone and has long since ceased all contact with Beacon Hills.

Malia is busy with Scott.

Lydia. . .well Lydia is out too. Dumped him after one semester at seperate colleges. Turns out ‘love’ meant a lot more to Stiles than it did to Lydia. He doesn’t hold it against her, though. He knew it was too good to be true, knew that it wasn’t that kind of love. 

Jackson is long gone with Ethan.

Stiles doesn’t even know where Peter is.

Mason is busy with Liam.

Corey is busy with Mason.

Everyone is busy.

That just left on person. Derek.

Stiles went to Derek on a Thursday. 

He knew that going to Derek would mean having to depend on someone. It meant opening up to Derek and he knew what would happen then. His walls would crumble more than they had already to the brooding Alpha. He knew that it would only lead to him getting hurt. But like always, he disregarded his worries, disregarded his belief in Murphy’s Law. He did it anyways. And that leads to where he is now, nearly two months later, drowning.

“Derek, I don’t know what to do.” He confesses to his friend one night, while they sit on the couch together working on their own things. They had been working in a comfortable silence until Stiles breaks it.

“I don’t care, Stiles.” Derek sighs tiredly. That was new. Stiles is taken back slightly, not knowing what to say. Should he push on and play it off or just remain silent to avoid whatever he knew was coming next. 

_ I can’t avoid my problems forever and Derek could help. I’ve helped him enough to warrant his help.  _ Stiles thinks. 

“Alright, Sourwolf,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “I’m drowning here, with Scott and my dad, I-”

“Here’s an idea,” Derek practically growls out, “Why don’t you take your issues to them instead of cowering away from them here. I’m not your diary.” 

_ There goes that idea. _ Stiles thinks dejectedly. He nods complacently and gathers his things. After months of being able to come to Derek for that silent foundation that he so desperately needed, it was a hard truth knowing that Derek can’t be that for him anymore. Derek doesn’t care about his problems. Derek doesn’t care that he’s hurting and he doesn’t care that no one is pulling him out of the crashing waves that are pulling him under. But why should he expect Derek to do that? Why should he expect that he matters anything to Derek? He doesn’t know how he got it in his head that he could possibly mean something to Derek. It just seemed like. . .it seemed like he had started to grow on Derek.

_ I guess not. _ Stiles tells himself that it’s okay. That it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. He tells himself that Derek was just in a bad mood today. It wasn’t that today he had actually spoken out instead of kept to himself. It wasn’t that Derek  _ didn’t  _ care for him. 

So he packs up his stuff and salutes Derek, hurrying out of the loft to go home. He had nowhere else to go. He suppresses his emotions as best as he could, pushing his emotions down deep. Down way deep. And when he got home, the lights were all out except for a singular light over the counter in the kitchen. His dad sits there, leaning against the counter, a half-empty bottle of Jack is clutched in his fist. He’s started drinking. His father’s eyes are clouded and he sways in his seat. Stiles hates seeing his father like this. So he looks at his dad and swallows his fear. He needs to end this binge right now and get their lives back on track.

“Dad, can we talk?” Stiles asks hopefully.

“Not now, Stiles.” Noah sighs tiredly.  _ Second time I’ve heard that sigh today.  _ But Stiles pushes on, desperately needing his father.

“I really need to talk to you though-” Stiles pushes.

“You know what I need?” His dad asks with a bite in his tone, “I need to be left alone. In case you haven’t noticed, shit has been hitting the fan in this town recently and I’m knee deep in shit.”

“I know you’re busy, dad, but-”

“No, Stiles. You don’t know. You have no fucking  _ clue _ how busy I am because of all the shit  _ you  _ have caused.” His father growls. And all of a sudden, Stiles regrets everything, “Do you have any idea the magnitude of the cleanup our department has on their hands because you took it upon yourself to cause all this trouble.”

“You know I didn’t do anything, none of it is my fault-” Stiles tries to defend himself but he feels so tired, so weak. He’s dealt with his father’s alcohol induced dillusions before.

“You didn’t? I don’t know how you got it in your head that you’re not at all at fault for any of this. I’m so. . .” His father’s anger is so palpable, “Disappointed. You’ve done so much in the past Stiles it’s no wonder you’ve done all this shit. First, your mother, then all these people that could have lived had anyone known about what was going on. Erica and Boyd and hell, Allison. Those boys in Liam’s class. All these locals. The piles of bodies that have passed through my morgue. All of it. All of it avoidable. You’re killing me, Stiles. And I can’t even look at you.”

Stiles feels like he’s falling down the rabbit hole. He feels like his world has given out under him. And he needs to leave. He needs to escape and he needs to go now.

“You need to go.” His father says in a strained voice, thick with emotion. None of them good or regretful. It’s said confidently and well aware of how he’s affecting Stiles, “You need to go right now.” 

“Where am I supposed to go?” Stiles asks, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t know. And right now, I don’t care.” His father says, “But I can’t be around you.”

And then his father turns away from him. He blinks away his tears and nods almost frantically. Not bothering to go up to his room to grab anything. Not bothering to take anything of his with him. No, he walks right out the door with nothing but his wallet, phone and the clothes on his back. The jeep he drives is the last thing he forsakes. Not bothering to take the car with him. No, he doesn’t want anything that reminds him of his family. Where does he go now? What does he do now?

Still in that frantic state of mind, the urge to get away so strong, thrumming through his fingers, makes him run as fast as he can to where else? The bus station. The only bus station on the whole damn town. On the drive to the station, he thinks. He thinks about all the time he spent taking care of his father. All the time he spent running, desperately trying to help his friends. He remembers dying, he remembers being forgotten, he remembers all that he went through for the pack and he remembers things getting better for only a short time. He’s so tired of things getting better for a fleeting moment then returning to the way things were and sometimes even worse. His father used to blame him for everything that went wrong when Stiles was younger. He was blamed for a rainy day, for his mother's death, for running out of alcohol. He was blamed for everything. 

He’s tired of it. So he parks numbly. He operated robotically. On the kiosk in the station, he pulls up his hood and uses the last of his cash to buy a ticket on the next bus out. The next bus to Laguna Niguel, California. Only a few hours away from Beacon Hills and its the next bus going out in twenty minutes. A good destination.  _ Anywhere is better than here. _ Stiles thinks. He goes to the ATM and takes out all the cash he had saved up. It’s a sad fact that he knew he should save up all the money he could  _ just in case. _

_ There’s nothing left for me here. _

_ I’m not pack. _

_ This wasn’t pack. I’m not pack. _

_ Get out. Get out. Get out. _


	2. Certain Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so surprised to see how many people were reading this story after only one chapter and I absolutely love it! Hope you all like the story, it's going to progress quickly as there are only 13 chapters so let me know what you all want to see!

Murphy’s law is the belief that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And this is all Stiles can think of for some reason. As he withdraws all his money from the ATM at the bus station, all he can mutter is _Murphy’s Law. . .Murphy’s Law. . .Murphy’s Law._ He’s fairly certain that the homeless man outside the station where he is currently waiting for the next bus just moved a few feet farther away from him.

What is he going to do when he gets to Laguna? Will he even stay there? Should he keep moving? What’s going to happen when he gets to where he’s going? How’s he going to live? How’s he going to eat? Stiles is working all of this out in his head, figuring out how he’s supposed to live. He’s got enough money to last him a couple weeks at most if he lives frugally.

_Figure it out later._

_Get out now._

So when the bus comes, screeching to a halt in the middle of the night, Stiles boards it numbly. Barely aware that he’s moving. He takes his seat at the back of the bus, there are only five people on this large bus, all minding their own business, all leaving for their own reasons. Stiles doesn’t speculate as to why any of them are leaving. Stiles doesn’t really care. He wishes he had a pair of headphones. He also knows that he’s going to need to ditch his phone at some point. He needs to leave everything behind. So he opens his window as they’re on the road driving out of town and drops his phone through the open slot. The moment it falls out of his hand, tears spring to his eyes. He thinks that maybe he was being too harsh, too rash. Perhaps he had made a mistake, that he should go back and figure it out in his hometown.

He asked for this. He knows he did. He asked for all of this with each decision he made. And he thinks. He thinks as he passes the _Now Leaving Beacon Hills_ sign. He thinks about his dad. About the anger and the sadness and the pain in his eyes and voice. He knows that somewhere, his father is thinking that he just went to Scott’s. But he didn’t. Stiles left town. He left everything behind. Even now, Stiles hopes that his father will somehow find him. That somehow, his father will realize just how he’s hurt him and he’ll try to make it better. That he’ll finally get sober and commit to never taking another drink again. But for now, leaving is going to be mutually beneficial. Stiles knows that his father will track his phone, track his movements to the bus station but he won’t be able to figure out where Stiles went because no one saw him leave. He bought his bus ticket with cash, no one saw what ticket he bought and no one saw him get on a bus. The station was a ghost town when he entered it. He knows the wolves will probably track his scent to the bus station and when the trail abruptly ends, they’ll find his phone, most likely in pieces. That’s why he didn’t answer any of their messages.

Then they’ll panic for a hot minute.

Then they’ll forget him.

They’ll get too busy to look for him.

Stiles doesn’t know if any of this will actually happen. Part of him thinks that he’s already forgotten. Scott certainly has made him believe that. His father will probably forget about him too. And why wouldn’t they? It’s not like he’s mattered to anyone in a long time.

He tries not to think about Derek. But thoughts about the Alpha are unavoidable. Because Stiles never told Derek why he had been coming over more. Never told him why he needed him so badly. Why it hurt so bad when he brushed Stiles off. He wonders if he ever meant anything to Derek at all. Derek did save him that one time after all. That’s what they did for each other, they saved one another. He doesn’t think that Derek will save him this time. He doesn’t think anyone will save him now. He’s on his own this time and no one is coming for him.

_All alone this time._

_No one’s going to save me now._

And as the lights go out in the bus and all that can be seen now are the little glowing lights on the floor of the bus, he thinks about Murphy’s Law again.

. . .

The second thing Stiles knows to be absolutely true, is that ignorance is _not_ bliss. What you don’t know _can_ and _will_ kill you. He’s got scars to prove that fact. When he wakes up from his short, restless sleep, in Orange county, he’s so close to the beach that he can smell it in the air. Though he thinks he might be a little crazy since he’s still so far from it. He has to get off the bus and figure out his next move. _Immediate needs first_ , he thinks. It’s almost five in the morning and he’s hungry. So he walks to the double golden arches at the corner of the street for breakfast. McDonald's tastes better to him when he’s starving. And as he sits at one of the booths thinking about what to do now, his own mind stops pushing him to think about his life because it’s dangerous. Loneliness and the feeling of abandonment is creeping up on him and he’s starting to feel like maybe just dying is better than trying to keep going. Why should he keep going when everyone else has given up on him?

Stiles sits there with a large coffee, barely touching the breakfast that he bought. He was hungry not too long ago but now he can barely stomach the sight of food. He doesn’t feel much of anything. He knows he feels cold. He hadn’t left Beacon Hills with anything but the clothes on his back and now he’s regretting it. He doesn’t have anything. How does someone just. . .build a whole new life with little to nothing. Stiles had quit college. He dropped out after his first year and had been working up until he left his town. Obviously, since he wouldn’t be showing up to work at the station, they would tell his father that he hadn’t been in. He’s not going to care though. His father didn’t care anymore.

“Alright, order quick so we can get to the beach.” A voice carries over from the ordering counter. A group of guys dressed in surfing gear, stand tall and easy going. When they order their breakfast to go, Stiles stands quickly and taps one of them on the shoulder before he can regret his choice.

“Mind if I catch a ride with you guys?” He asks them. And the man he asks has soft eyes and an easygoing smile. He takes Stiles in, the rumpled clothes, puffy eyes and hard gaze. Stiles feels regret for only a moment, before remembering that even if these guys decided to kidnap and kill him, that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

“Sure man, we got room for one more.” He says with a small smile. Stiles tries to return it but he’s sure that he ends up grimacing. He knows he should think about stranger danger but honestly, he’s so far from caring that it doesn’t cross his mind to be cautious. They have a large van, carting all of their gear and guys. There’s another car they take too, where Stiles is now sitting in the passenger seat, staring blankly ahead of him. _At least I’m not in the van. That’s a good sign, right?_ Stiles thinks.

“Where you running from?” The driver asks. It jarred Stiles out of his thoughts for a moment. Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Nowhere important.” He grunts. The driver just nods understandingly and continues driving. It’s awkward now, Stiles can tell this guy is curious. He’s not sure he wants to share any details, however, in case this guy gets any ideas.

“How old are you?” The man asks.

“Twenty.”

“I was fifteen when I ran away from home,” The driver says, “Hitchhiked from Oregon to here and haven’t left since.”

“How did you do it?” Stiles asks, his interest peaked.

“Get back on my feet?” Stiles nods, he listens carefully to him, “It took a while. I lived on the streets for a year before I could get a job. Worked long hours, built a new life. I found friends who helped me and I got back on my feet. I live pretty modestly but I have everything I want and need. You can do it too.”

“I don’t have anyone.” Stiles says almost bitterly, “Dropped out of college after a year and I’ve been on my own ever since.”

“Maybe. . .but that doesn’t mean you can’t find someone. Doesn’t mean you can’t build a new life. A better life. It’s just going to be hard at first, but you’ll get it.” He smiles at Stiles, “I’m Jake, by the way.”

“Mitch.” Stiles replies. He doesn’t feel like Stiles anymore. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel like his old self again. It’s another name to add to all of his identities. Who is Mitch going to be? What is Mitch’s story? Well, Mitch is going to take Stiles’ identity to the grave.

“What are you going to do when we get to where we’re going?” Jake asks. They’re only going to the beach. At some point, Stiles will have to think about his next move. Where is he going to go? Where is he going to live? How is he going to get money?

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” Stiles answers honestly.

“Well, my buddies and I are staying in a beach house for the next month. Some of us are on summer break from USD and you’re welcome to crash with us.” Jake offers. A perfect stranger has taken interest in Stiles. Has offered him somewhere to stay, friends has offered him an opportunity to get himself in order. _A complete stranger cares about me more than. . ._ Stiles can’t even think about that.

“You don’t even know me.” Stiles points out.

“Nah, but I know what someone in a hard situation looks like. I know what a good guy looks like, feels like. So I’m not too worried. I’m pretty good at reading people.” He laughs, “Besides, we’re all runaways here. All of us running from one trouble to here. So you’ll fit right in.”

Stiles feels something inside of him settle, and before he can process what he’s doing, he nods, thanking Jake for the offer. It’s a quick ride to the beach, no more than twenty minutes, and Stiles is exceedingly happy that he’s found these guys. The other two men in the backseat listened to Jake and Stiles talking and happily chimed in when Stiles agreed to crash with them. They’re all easy going guys, runaways that managed to get back on their feet and go to school or find work, something that Stiles hopes to do too. Stiles had quit college and the FBI track after his first year and came back to Beacon Hills to take care of his dad, he’d hated being far away and most of all, he’d hated the whole beurocracy of it all. He hadn’t regretted coming home until shit hit the fan and now he’s far from caring about that one year he’d lost.

He remembers when he decided to come home. It took an entire semester to decide that he hated being in College. That he hated what he was doing and that honestly, he had no idea what he wanted to do. He had already wasted all that time and then when he’d come home, his father wasn’t the only one who was disappointed. Stiles didn’t think he could take it. When he told his father he’d decided to drop out and find something else that he loved more, Noah had regarded him with this look of disappointed hopelessness. Like all that hope he’d had for his son had been snuffed out and he couldn’t care less to try and help Stiles figure out what to do next. Stiles was on his own to figure it out.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen now that he’s out in the world without a safety net and in this case, ignorance is so not bliss. He’s nervous but he feels like he’ll be okay for a bit while he figures out his next move. When they get to the beach house, the guys introduce themselves, all of them welcoming Stiles into their space and generously offering him some of their stuff when they realized that he had nothing to his name. Stiles couldn’t be more grateful. For once, he feels like he might be okay.

“We’re going out to catch some waves if you want to join us?” Jake asks his blue eyes shine brightly and Stiles feels like he wants to be adventurous but he can’t bring himself to it..

Stiles knows that he should probably sleep or get to work on finding a job. Finding more stability. But he can’t even keep his eyes open, the stress of the last twelve hours alone are overwhelming him and the guys can see it on his face. He objects to their offer and instead, they give him a beach blanket and get him to sleep on the beach under an umbrella, thanking him for volunteering to watch their stuff while they’re out in the water. Stiles simply nods and kicks off his shoes, lays down on the cool sand and closes his eyes after waving to his new friends.

The lull of the ocean sounds, seagulls, and laughter keep him asleep for a long time. The guys are careful not to wake Stiles when one of them returns to the beach to grab something. They had spoken together once they paddled out about their new refugee. Jake pleaded Stiles’ case and the guys were on board for letting Stiles crash with them as long as he needed. They’ve all been in that spot before and know how hard it is. They can tell that Stiles went through something hard, something bad to have gained that hardened gaze. The fact that Stiles smells like wolves, like an Alpha, makes them all weary. They know he’s got an Alpha somewhere that either didn’t want him anymore or will be wanting him back very soon, so they’ll need to talk to him about that. Stiles didn’t figure out their werewolf status yet, and they know that when he does, he probably won’t take it well. For now, they want him to rest for when they tell him. They all agreed that Stiles needs to be well rested if he decides to leave them.

Jake knows that Stiles probably won’t be thrilled but it doesn’t matter. He knows it’s better to be straight with a human who runs with wolves.

_Ignorance is not bliss._

Stiles isn’t sure how long he was asleep, but when he wakes up, it’s warm out and he wants to get in the water. He’s groggy and some cold ocean water is sure to wake him up and help him feel better. He stares longingly at the water when a pair of boardshorts are tossed at him. Jake stands there smiling at him knowingly.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, getting to his feet to go change. He hadn’t been to the beach since his mother was alive. He had always vowed to go but with all the craziness in Beacon Hills, Stiles couldn’t swing it. He knows that that nap he just took was one of the best naps he’s had in his entire life. He feels more rested now than he has in the past year. Maybe even longer.

Stiles doesn’t even look at his reflection, still unable to see his own face staring back at him. He doesn’t want to see what he looks like, he’s sure that if he looked in his own eyes right now that he’d probably have an issue. He can’t even remember the last time he looked in a mirror now that he thinks about it. He just strips down and into the board shorts, then walks calmly to the sea. Stepping in the water sends a rush down his spine, the cold water bracing and beautiful at the same time. He loves it instantly. He swims out to the guys, who are all congregating far beyond the break, laying on their boards and laughing. Jake helps him sit up on his board and when they all get a look at his back, the wolves all grimace. The scars are plentiful all over the human’s body and Jake knows it’s the time to tell him.

“Mitch, we know that you were in a pack,” Jakes says uncomfortably. Stiles gives them credit for telling him quickly and if he were able to feel anything, he’d probably be on guard the moment they said it, “We don’t want you to flip out of anything so promise you’ll keep an open mind.”

Stiles feels it coming. The end of this great thing he’s stumbled on and he’s becoming terribly aware of the choices he’s made since leaving home and isn’t scared but feels terribly foolish. So he just nods and braces himself for whatever comes next.

“We know you run with wolves,” Jake says bluntly, “We could smell it on you the instant you came up to us. We’re all werewolves.”

 _Just rip it off like a band-aid,_ Jake thinks. Even the seagulls stop cawing. The ocean goes still and the world goes quiet as Stiles lets it sink in. And before he can stop it, bitter laughter bursts from his chest. Stiles laughs so hard, tears come to his eyes.

“This isn’t the reaction we expected. . .but I won’t turn it down.” Tim, one of the guys mutters to the others.

“I just can’t believe my luck. I leave one pack just to find another.” Stiles says bitterly, “It’s like I’m a goddamn magnet for this shit.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, letting Stiles get better acquainted with the situation.

“You’re not afraid are you?” Jake asks almost timidly.

“Afraid?” Stiles laughs, “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already. I’ve been at your mercy since the moment I went up to you. I’m extremely defenseless. It wouldn’t be too hard to do. Honestly, I’m not sure I would even fight you.”

“Will you tell us about your pack?” Jake asks slowly, trying to ignore the tone of darkness in Stiles’ voice or the fact that he can smell the self-loathing and pain wafting off of him. He doesn’t want to think about what that means.

“Not much of a pack if I was never in it.” He answers tiredly, “I was fifteen and my best friend got bit. Long story short, we started to protect our hometown. My hometown is a Hellmouth so you can imagine all the nonstop supernatural bullshit that’s come our way. You name it, we fought it. There isn’t much to tell about them.” Stiles says. He doesn’t want to share about the pack and Jake is just beginning to see how touchy of a subject it is.

“We just need to know if we’re going to have a pissed off Alpha at our door looking for his beta.” Jake presses with a stern look that makes Stiles think that this is what a good Alpha looks like.

“He’s made it clear that they don’t want me. Everyone there made that abundantly clear.” Stiles stares at the water with a grim expression, struggling not to let the anger boil over.

“That’s not a pack, Mitch.” One of the guys, Eric, says ardently, “A pack never makes anyone feel like how you smell.”

“I don’t think I was ever pack to them.” Stiles sighed. The wolves around him could see the exhaustion in his eyes, see the tension he carries in his shoulders and recognizes the pain. “So if you kill me now, I think you’d be doing me a favor.”

“We’re not going to kill you, Mitch,” Jake says, startled at the idea.

“Well, what are you going to do?” He asks, he doesn’t feel fear anymore. He doesn’t feel much of anything anymore.

“Our offer is still on the table, Stiles. We don’t want you to go. You’re a human who runs with wolves and we’re not idiots. We’d be foolish to let you go.” Jake tells him.

“I’m pretty fucked up, Jake. I cause trouble wherever I go. You don’t want me around your pack.” Stiles tells him honestly.

“Let us be the judge of that,” Tim says, earning a nod by all the other men.

“We’d really like it if you stayed with us and if you decide you want to join us, we’d be happy to have you.” Jake says.  

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. He’s not sure if he’s ready to just hop into another pack, the betrayal from the last is still so fresh. Stiles wonders if all packs are like this, so accepting and inclusive. He doesn't know if they have ulterior motives or if they're just this easy-going. He doesn't want to assume anything yet. He doesn’t know how to react so he nods and just as quick as they addressed the issue, it’s dropped. It feels like he’s out with a bunch of his friends, enjoying the beach. He feels like he’s on vacation. He doesn’t know what’s going on at home and he knows not knowing is probably going to come back to bite him in the ass. It’s going well so far and Stiles thinks that yes, he’s a trouble magnet. . .but maybe he can also be a good luck magnet. For now, he puts it out of his head. He has a roof over his head and people looking out for him, at least, that's what it seems like for now.


	3. Effective

Being with Jake’s pack is so different from the pack he left behind. This pack is close, this pack is loving and they care about one another. They’re easy going and playful. They know each other so well. It makes Stiles’ heart swell, but it also makes him so sorrowful for what he never knew could be a pack. He didn’t know it could be this good. And Jake, the Alpha, is so much better than Derek or Scott, that he’s stunned. Things are so different and Stiles fits right in so easily. It feels like he’s never been so comfortable. He’s never felt so free. 

The pack lets him be for a few days. Stiles is grateful for that. He joins them occasionally but for the first week or so, Stiles is mostly on his own. He goes out in the early mornings to sit in the cool sand and watch the moon setting over the horizon. It’s too early for people to start heading out to the beach so Stiles takes the time to sit in the sand and stare at the water. He loses himself in the ocean’s voice, the smell and the chilly morning air. He’s not sure how long he spends just sitting in one place but he’s always woken from his thoughts by the sounds of routy families around him. That’s how he spends every morning during the first week he’s with this new pack.

Stiles expects there to be a catch in Jake’s offer somewhere but there isn’t. There is no but, no catch, no drawback. Even after a week, he’s expecting things to explode in his face to the point where he is very hesitant to really participate in the group, but things are still so good, that Stiles calms towards the beginning of his second week with them. Jake tells him that he still has people who care about him and they should know he’s okay. He was kind and thoughtful enough to purchase a burner cell for Stiles, one with enough minutes for him to call someone, anyone who mattered to him enough to call. Stiles couldn’t think of one single person he wants to call. He wanted to thank Jake and tell him that he would call someone, but he couldn’t. He simply nodded and placed the phone in a drawer. He didn’t need to call anyone. No one needed to know he was okay. 

Stiles goes out that night. He walks the boardwalk in the dark, ignoring all the people laughing and happily passing him by. He can’t get enough of the salty air or the sea breeze. After a while, he’s reached the peer and takes a seat at the edge, his legs dangle over the ledge. He listens to the crash of the water and closes his eyes. It’s therapeutic. He feels the first parts of himself coming together again. People say that time heals all wounds, that might be true. It’s only been a week but Stiles doesn’t feel like time is helping him. Stiles thinks that it isn’t time that heals so much as distance. Getting farther and farther away from his problem is what’s keeping him sane at the moment. The red, hot, aching wound inside him feels like someone stuck him through the heart with a white-hot iron. He doesn’t think time will heal it. He thinks distance will. 

The distance Stiles put between himself and Beacon Hills doesn’t feel like enough yet. He feels better, but he thinks that may be crossing the ocean in front of him will help more. Maybe he can’t run far enough. 

. . .

He gave himself a week. It came and went and now it was time to get to work. He didn’t want to get a permanent job, especially since he didn’t think he’d be around for longer than a few weeks. It was relatively easy to find a job as a server at a seafood restaurant on the boardwalk, only about a mile’s distance from the beach house. Training was quick since they were under-staffed and he acquired a great number of tips. The money added up quickly. 

There were many things he liked about this job. He could work for ten hours, pick up extra shifts if he wanted, and he worked so hard that he didn’t have time to think about anything. 

_ Stop. For now, for now I need to be here. I need to be free for just a little while longer.  _ He thinks more often than he should. So that’s what he does. He runs on the beach every morning with Jake. Then he goes to work and works until he’s exhausted enough to lay on the beach and eat dinner with the guys. He surfs from noon to night on the weekend with Jake’s pack, taking breaks to nap and eat. 

There were many things about Stiles that changed very quickly. Things that Jake and the guys never commented on, knowing full well that Stiles is a grown, twenty-year-old man. Stiles was out frequently. It’s something he never did before he came to this beach. He lost his virginity in high school to Malia, then when he began dating Lydia, he’d been intimate with her a couple times before they had broken up. Stiles had never had the opportunity to sleep around during his year away at college. He’d been wholeheartedly dedicated to his relationship with Lydia despite the distance between them that had only seemed to go. She had told him the day they broke up that she had been unfaithful, that she’d let it go one night and couldn’t stand the loneliness any longer. It had broken his heart but not to the degree he thought it would. If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted to feeling mostly relieved that their relationship was over. Lydia hadn’t been the best girlfriend to him during their year-long relationship. The first time Stiles went out to the part of the beach where all the college kids partied all day and night, he wasn’t sure what he was doing there. He had simply been out walking, catching some air when another man began walking beside him. At first, Stiles didn’t say a word, content to mind his own business. Then after a quarter of a mile, he got suspicious and turned to the man following closely by him. 

“Can I help you?” Stiles asked irritably. The boy following him was tall, taller than Stiles and dark haired. His hair curled into long locks of dark curly hair and his eyes were too dark to see. Stiles thought he was a good looking guy, for a moment, able to appreciate his beauty. 

“I’m sorry. . .you must think I’m a creep,” The boy scratches behind his head sheepishly but offers a small smile, “I was working up the nerve to ask you out. I’m Eli.”

“Oh,” Stiles stops, drops the attitude and thinks for a moment, “Mitch.”

“Well, Mitch,” Eli extends his hand for a friendly shake, “There’s a little bakery not too far from here with the best coffee and sugary treats this side of guard tower number 15.”

Stiles thinks for a moment, considering the offer. Eli looks completely genuine and given Stiles’ luck so far with people, he decides to give it a shot.

“Sure,” Stiles shrugs, “I could use some sugar.”

Eli’s smile is wide and Stiles thinks that if he hadn’t been completely dead inside, he might have felt a little flutter in his stomach at this attractive boy’s grin. He had never had someone react this way to him. Stiles had always been the pining one. He’d always been the one to pursue the other. It’s a whole other ball game. Eli takes him to the bakery, it’s quiet and smells delicious. It’s open twenty-four hours and the fresh batch of cinnamon rolls they put out are irresistible. 

“Where you from?” Eli asks, attempting small talk.

“Around,” Stiles shrugs, lightly picking at the cinnamon roll in front of him, “You?”

“Mysterious, I like that.” Eli laughs, “I’m just here on vacation with my friends. I’m from New York.” 

“That’s cool. I used to go to Columbia.” Stiles nods, “Dropped out after my first year.”

“Really? I go to NYU.” Eli smiles. They go on like this for the next hour, just talking about nothing. How long are you staying? What’s your favorite book? Seen any good movies lately? Small talk that is honestly boring Stiles and he can tell that his obscure answers are getting to Eli. However, he didn’t know that Eli is a psychology major. Eli could tell that Stiles was damaged. That Stiles is hurting and that these obscure answers are a way of protecting himself. That doesn’t change the fact that he knows Stiles isn’t going to be his new boyfriend. No, he wants Stiles in another more temporary way and Eli thinks that Stiles would be completely open to a distraction with a pay-off. 

“How about we get out of here?” Eli asks with a deep, suggestive stare, “It might be presumptuous of me but maybe you and me could. . .share a night together?”

“Look, Eli,” Stiles stops him. He’s not ready for a relationship and he’s definitely not ready for any kind of commitment, “I’m not really looking for anything long-term-”

“Mitch, calm down. I can tell that you’re going through something and I don’t care. I like you, you’re hot and I’m not looking for anything right now either.” Eli shrugs, “I can tell that you need a distraction and I happen to know a few ways that I can keep you. . .distracted.”

“Oh,” Stiles’ eyes widen, “I’ve never been with another man. . .” Stiles had had many crushes on other men, a couple of which were kept secret from the world. Though he’s never pursued his interests, he’s always wanted to. 

“Oh,” It’s Eli’s turn to be surprised. He didn’t think that Stiles would be completely untouched by another man, “Well, It’s alright if you turn me down. I had a good time talking with you, but if you want to keep going, I’d be a good person to experiment with. Promise I’d be easy.”

“It’s not that, I just don’t want to piss you off.” Stiles admits.

“Inexperience doesn’t piss me off, and neither do you.” Eli tells him honestly, “I don’t care, honestly, the fact that I’d be your first man is thrilling and I’d be more than happy to introduce you to this world.”

Stiles thinks about it. He knows that he needs to be safe, that he doesn’t want to catch anything or unwittingly walk into the web of some killer’s trap. Then he thinks about the need he feels, he desires that human contact so badly. He needs touch, he needs pleasure, and he needs a distraction. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him in a friendly, compassionate way. Eli is making a good offer and Stiles can’t bring himself to listen to his own reason.

“Then let’s go back to your place.” Stiles says, eagerly standing and following Eli out to an Uber. Eli is staying at a hotel near the beach, only five minutes by car. When they get into the elevator, Eli is all smiles. He’s excited and Stiles can’t help but feel it too. He’s nervous, sure, but he’s also excited and thrilled. It’s addictive. Feeling something again. When they get into Eli’s room, things take a turn. Stiles’ lover gives him a lustful look.

“Can I kiss you?” Eli asks, pulling Stiles in closer. Stiles nods and takes a deep breath. Eli’s warm lips collide with his own and a shot of pleasure runs up his spine at the meer contact. They kiss gently at first, then more urgently. Then Eli progresses farther and begins to open his mouth wider, allowing Stiles to see that he wants to deepen the kiss. Their tongues collided and Stiles relishes in it, “Can I undress you?” Eli asks, out of breath.

“Yes.” Stiles says, his heart races at Eli’s hands, slipping under his shirt to lift it up and over his head. Then Eli takes his own shirt off. They take a moment, only a moment, to observe one another. Eli notices the scars immediately. They don’t take away from Stiles’ attractiveness, but they do worry him. Eli wonders at all of them, wondering what could have caused all this. Why someone so young has so many scars. The rest of their clothes disappear quickly and before Stiles knows it, he’s on his back, naked, with Eli on top of him. They’re kissing, Eli gropes at Stiles’ body and Stiles feels like he’s going to explode. He can’t think, he can’t stop feeling pleasure. He’s addicted to it.

“Do you want to top or shall I?” Eli asks in a breathless tone. 

“You top.” Stiles says, all too curious at the next part. Eli nods excitedly and rummages through the bedside nightstand. He fishes out a bottle of lube and a condom. Stiles watches with rapt attention. Eli is on him again. There’s so much touching, so much pleasure and Stiles loses himself in all of it. He’d never had sex like this before, never felt pleasure like this before. He knows that now he’s had a taste, he’s going to want more. When Eli said he was going to distract Stiles, he hadn’t thought it would have been  _ that  _ great of a distraction. Stiles wants more of it. He spends many nights in the arms and beds of strangers. Men that pick him up at the beach or hit on him while he’s working. He calls Eli a couple more times before the man goes back to New York. Eli was only the first in a long string of one night stands. Stiles knows it’s dangerous. He knows what could happen but he doesn’t care. He stopped caring a while ago. Of course, he’s safe, but he knows he’s getting more ass than a toilet seat. Jake thinks that Stiles is endangering himself. Putting himself in dangerous situations to fill that void. They know he’s lonely. They know that he’s hurting and they know to leave him alone. The only time that one of the guys made a comment, Stiles shut down and didn’t talk to them for a day and a half. Stiles enjoys it. He loves going out and having fun for a night, forgetting that his body was used for anything other than pleasure. He loves receiving it because it had been so long since anyone had ever given Stiles the pleasure he so desperately wanted. 

Though he had many offers, he always turned down the notions for more than just casual hookups. Stiles knew that he didn’t want to date any of his one night stands. He knew it was all to pass the time. To keep his mind off of things. If Stiles was alone too long without something to do, he’d start thinking and he didn’t ever want to do that.

Stiles learned to be okay with that.

He learned how to pass time like that. Always busy, never taking a breather, staying active. If he was active, he wasn’t thinking. Stiles grew close with Jake and his pack, seamlessly fitting in with them and truly enjoying their company. Being with their pack helped to ease his pain and sometimes, he even forgot about the constant ache in his chest. And at the end of their month on Laguna beach, Jake could smell Stiles’ fear. He had known that all of this would come to an end at some point, and he still hadn’t figured out what he wanted to do next. What was his next move? Where did he go from here? How did time pass so quickly?

“Listen, Mitch. . .we’ve got to go back to San Diego, but we’ve got room for one more. We’re only twenty minutes from the beach and if you want, you can stay with us there as long as you need.” Jake offers. His long blonde hair is pulled back into a bun, exposing his thoughtful and caring face. The pack had all grown to like Stiles. They liked his sarcasm, his strength and his humor. They liked that he was easy to get along with and they especially liked that Stiles was always there for each one of them. Stiles acted like a packmate and for a while, they forgot he wasn’t. Stiles really looks at him. This man has saved him, gave him a place to heal and can clearly see that Stiles is still healing. They’re not done with him. They’re not abandoning him. They’re offering to take him with them. And Stiles needs that.

“I’ll get a job. . .I won’t mooch off of you guys.” Stiles says firmly. Jake just rolls his eyes.

“You don’t need to get a job, Mitch. Just keep the place clean for us and we’ll call it square. You can borrow our car to go wherever, keep visiting the beach. You can figure out what you want to do, if you want to go to school or whatever.” Jake says, patting his back, “Now that we got that out of the way, we’re about to hit the surf. Come out with us.”

Stiles nods excitedly and grabs his own board and pulls on his wetsuit to join the rest of the guys out on the water. Just like that the world is put on hold again. Everything is alright. Swaying with the ocean, feeling the cold salt water on his skin and his long hair lying in messy strands across his face. He’s perfectly content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how pleased I am at all the response I've been getting. I've written many other stories and have never gotten this much feedback! I really appreciate both good and bad critiques, really, it helps me become a better writer and better judge what the audience wants to see. Please keep commenting, I really want to know what you all want to read!  
> I promise the next chapter will be what is going on with the pack in Beacon Hills with Stiles being gone.  
> Love!


	4. Ghost

****

_ Back in Beacon Hills. . . _

 

It’s been raining for the last week. Sheriff Noah Stilinski operated on autopilot, waking up, taking a shot or two to ease the tension, driving to work in the cruiser, working all day and most of the night, going home and drinking until he blacked out to repeat the process. He avoided Stiles’ bedroom door, he ignored the jeep sitting in the driveway and he ignored the little pinpricks of guilt that were starting to creep up on him. He doesn’t remember everything from that night, most of the time he’s too drunk to remember what he’d eaten the night before for dinner. He left Stiles alone for as long as he could.   _ He’s probably at Scott’s. I’ll call Mel to check in. _ He thinks to himself. Now he’s pulling on his belt. Getting ready for work is getting harder and harder. So he does what he usually does when things get hard. He pours himself a shot. The warm sting eases his mind and fills him with warmth. He hides his flask in his left leg pocket and begins the drive to the station. The day progresses like any other. Paperwork, meeting, paperwork, lockup, paperwork, phone call, phone call, phone call. Before he knows it, he’s hit dinner time and he’s starved. 

“Parrish, get in here!” He calls out the door. The deputy comes in and waits silently for his next order, “Would you go down to the diner on fifth and get me my usual? Get something for yourself too.” He says, handing Parrish some cash.

“Stiles told me not to let you eat at the diner anymore, sir-”

“Stiles isn’t in charge of what I can and can’t have.” The sheriff says sternly, annoyed at his son’s rules for him.  _ He’s the parent for God’s sake. _

“Alright, sir.” Parrish turns on his heel and leaves. With the door finally closed, he pulls out his flask and takes a big swig. Little does he know that Parrish is watching him through the blinds. He can smell the alcohol on him and he can tell that he’s been drinking heavily for a long time now. He’d thought that the Sheriff wasn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ , drink at work but confirming his suspicions just now led him to believe otherwise. 

He would have thought that Stiles would talk to his dad about his drinking. Maybe they’re fighting again.  _ I need to talk to Stiles. _ On the way to the diner, he tries calling his friend but he doesn’t pick up. He tries calling again on the way back to the station but again, no answer. Parrish starts wondering. When was the last time he actually  _ saw _ Stiles? It wasn’t like the young man not to answer the phone or to stop by the station to at least drop off a lunch for the Sheriff. Even when they fought, Stiles always took care of his dad. Parrish is a smart man and a smart detective. When his shift ends that evening, he goes to investigate. He sees the jeep in the driveway to their house but he doesn’t hear a heartbeat. Stiles isn’t there. He knows that something had to have been wrong if Stiles didn’t have the jeep. The boy would never have abandoned it. 

He got closer to the car and took a look. Judging by the puddle of oil under it, no one has driven it in a long time. It’s been sitting too long. Stiles’s scent is gone, disappeared after all the rain so Parrish can’t follow him, but with all the evidence, he’s starting to feel like something is terribly wrong. Parrish isn’t a part of the pack. He’d turned Scott down in favor of being a neutral party. Besides, he wasn’t a wolf. He didn’t need a pack to remain sane. Parrish knows how much Stiles loved the pack, however, the kid was loyal. Extremely so, and he often took care of everyone’s needs despite not being asked to. Parrish saw Stiles running errands for Derek. He saw Stiles buying a new lacrosse stick for Liam. He saw Stiles countless times coming in and out of the library after hours of endless research. 

Surely the pack would know what happened to Stiles. 

The first thing he does is call Scott. The boy is away at college now, he won’t be coming back until Thanksgiving break. 

_ “Parrish! Hey, man, what’s up?” _ Scott’s cheery voice picks up on the second ring. 

“Hey Scott. I’m sorry to bother you but I was hoping you’d heard from Stiles recently?” Parrish asks hopefully.

_ “Now that you mention it, no.” _ Scott says. His tone doesn’t sound worried, though, it sounds pensive,  _ “I haven’t talked to him in a couple weeks. I’ve been so busy getting going with all my classes. It’s been kinda crazy over here, you know?” _ Scott laughs like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Okay, well I’ll go check with Derek then.” Parrish doesn’t even address the fact that Scott not talking to Stiles in more than a few days is abnormal. It seems to Jordan as if more pieces of a puzzle are coming together.

_ “Yeah, hey, why you need to get ahold of Stiles?”  _ Scott asks curiously.

“I just haven’t seen him around in a while and I was getting worried,” Parrish tells him.

_ “Oh, well, you know Stiles. He’s probably off somewhere on a binge or something. _ ” Scott’s lame comment led Jordan to believe that maybe Scott had been so out of contact with Stiles for so long that he’s forgetting what his ‘best friend’ is really like.

“Yeah, maybe. Have a good semester, Scott.” Parrish says before hanging up. He tries not to feel anger building up on behalf of Stiles. There’s only one other person he needs to check with before sounding the alarm. He drove up to Derek’s loft building and was buzzed in easy enough. He’d never liked going to the loft. He always thought that he would develop tetanus if he touched anything. When Derek opened the door, he regarded Jordan with the typical sourness that Derek tends to conduct his life with.

“Yes?” Derek asks in an annoyed tone. Parrish had never thought someone with all Derek’s gifts and fortune could be so rude and callous. He’d thought that all that time away, everything he’s been through that he’d be in a better mood. 

“I was wondering if you’d seen Stiles around?” Jordan asks, bypassing pleasantries and skipping right to the purpose of why he’s standing on a bitter werewolf’s doorstep.

“He hasn’t been around.” Is all the wolf says. Something isn’t sitting right in the pit of Jordan’s stomach and he thinks that something is terribly wrong with this picture. 

“I thought he used to come by a lot.” Jordan supplied.

“He did. He’s been having issues with his dad and Scott, lately. He’d come over here and hide from his issues so I told him to go talk it out rather than hiding like a coward.” Derek’s tone is harsh and a little upsetting to Jordan. Derek knew the kid was having issues? He didn’t even try to talk it out with Stiles?

“You didn’t try and find out what issues specifically he was having did you?” Jordan asks hopefully, “Because it’s not like Stiles to just disappear.”

That got Derek’s attention.

“What do you mean, disappear?” Derek asks slowly.

“Stiles hasn’t been into the station in a while, maybe over a week and his jeep’s been sitting for just as long.” Jordan tells him, “His scent is long gone too, washed away with the rain.”

“What?” Derek’s a little slow to understand that Stiles is missing, or possibly just up and gone. It’s not a question as to why the boy may have run. Clearly, there was little to no interest taken in the boy’s life and he could see the slippery slope that the Sheriff has undoubtedly been on for a while. 

“It looks like you’re still not getting it so I’ll say it a litle slower. Stiles. Is. Gone.” Jordan says antagonizingly slow. He’s thoroughly upset with Derek and the rest of the pack for letting Stiles slip when the boy is so clearly in need of help. Ever since Jordan has met Stiles, he’s known what kind of person the kid is. He’s stubborn and too smart for his own good. He’s strong, so strong that he wouldn’t ask anyone for help until he’s at the end of his rope. It would have taken a lot to break the proverbial camel’s back for Stiles.

“Gone,” Derek repeats unhelpfully. The wolf knew he’d been harsh on Stiles the last time he’d seen him. He’d just gotten so fed up with Stiles’ cowering act. It wasn’t like the boy at all and ever since he’d dropped out of college (which Derek thought was the stupidest thing the boy could have ever done), he’d allowed his home to be Stiles’ pit for wallowing. 

He didn’t want to admit that he liked the boy, he’s always liked Stiles. He never admitted to anyone how the man was able to anchor him unlike anything else. He’d held Stiles in high regard for as long as they’d run in the same circle, up until Stiles told him he’d dropped out. Derek didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing Stiles give up was the biggest turn off he’d ever encountered. All that respect, all that admiration, and regard was gone. He didn’t see Stiles the same way again. Derek knew it was ridiculous but seeing Stiles so weak recently, was making his stomach turn with resentment. He wanted the old Stiles back. The lively, vivacious, go-getter. The over-achiever. The guy who was strong and persistent in his desires. Week after week, Stiles would come to Derek’s home and wallow. He’d hide from his issues and continuously clutter Derek’s space with the scent of uncertainty and anxiety. Derek didn’t like seeing Stiles so resigned and unlike himself. 

He’d spent the week wandering about the loft, handling business over the phone or reading. Filling his own time in silent contemplation. He’d ignored the lingering scent of Stiles in the armchair where the boy usually took up residence. Sure, Derek had snapped. He’d decided he couldn’t take Stiles’ attitude anymore and he thought that a little tough love would help him out more than molly-coddling. Now, after hearing that Stiles is missing, Derek thinks that maybe what Stiles needed was some coddling. Derek isn’t good at coddling. He’s not good at helping other people with emotions, Derek himself could acknowledge the fact that he has the emotional range of a toaster. Emotions didn’t come as easy to Derek as they did to Stiles and he thinks now that maybe he misstepped. He made a mistake and it most likely cost him a friend, cost him his anchor. 

“Have you told the Sheriff?” Derek asks quietly.

“The Sheriff is. . .I think that’s what contributed to Stiles’ problems and if it’s what I think is going on, then we’re in for it.” Jordan says. The hellhound had been suspecting Noah of being an alcoholic, but he’d always thought it was functional. While Stiles was in school, he’d never smelt alcohol on the man. He didn’t start scenting it until Stiles went away to college. He wishes he’d have seen the signs earlier. Now that Jordan knew Stiles was gone, the next step is to confront the Sheriff. Jordan knows it won’t be easy but it’s gotta happen. He needs to be aware that his son is gone.

“Why would-” Derek is confused. Clearly, he isn’t as clued in as Jordan thought he would be.

“There’s a lot going on here, Derek. If you’d have asked Stiles about it, you would know.” Jordan says angrily, “Did you ever even ask Stiles what has been going on in his life?” Derek doesn’t like the tone of Jordan’s voice but thinks back. Certainly, he’d asked Stiles why he was always so upset. Why he had dropped out, why he was back in town working some clerical job at the station instead of going for something that better suited him. If Derek were being honest with himself, he’d say no, because he couldn’t remember a time when he’d asked Stiles what was going on. Derek had been too upset with the man to even bother asking why he was back. He was too busy trying to get out of their friendship. Then Stiles took the choice out of his hands and he finds that he wasn’t the best he could have been for Stiles. Derek could have done more,  _ should _ have done more.

“That’s what I thought.” Jordan shakes his head disappointedly, “And you call this a pack?” 

“You don’t have the right-” Derek growls, upset that this outsider would have the gall to call them out.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Jordan doesn’t back down from Derek’s challenge, he’s too pissed off on behalf of the injured party, “I’m not in your pack. I chose not to be in it. I think that if I was in your pack, though, I would be sorely disappointed at the cluster fuck that you all are. All of you are so spread out and distanced from one another. That wouldn’t be an issue if you guys were even close with one another. You’re all so self-absorbed in your own lives that you don’t even take a minute to look up and see the hurt, the pain that one of your  _ friends _ is in. Not one of you knew where he was. Scott didn’t even seem to care when I told him that Stiles hasn’t even been seen in a week. A fucking week. Your pack is a disgrace.”

“Stiles could have come to us about what he was feeling. He could have reached out instead of hiding here and letting it fester. He was being a coward.” Derek seethed, “How could we have helped if we didn’t know what was happening?”

“You call yourself a born wolf?” Jordan growled at the man, “You were around him all the time! Did he ever smell happy to you? Did he ever let you know without words that he was struggling? Even if you hadn’t asked or he hadn’t said anything, pack is there for each other! Pack is supposed to be supportive and a safety net. You let Stiles slip through the cracks because you didn’t want to bother getting dirty with his feelings. You selfish son of a bitch, you’re just like the rest of them and you know what? You don’t deserve Stiles. None of you do. If you’d remembered everything that boy did for you when he was only a kid. When he was barely starting his life, he gave everything to you and your pack. And you treat him like this?”

“You are a disgrace as a wolf, a pack mate, and a friend, Derek Hale. You all are. I hope that wherever Stiles is, he’s found people who really care about him and take care of him just as much as he takes care of them.” Jordan’s eyes glow with power, he’s angry and he’s letting Derek know that he’s stronger. That’s he’s right, and that Derek is in the wrong, “He’s better off where he is.  _ Away from all of you.” _ Jordan’s voice turns venomous. 

Derek backs down from the challenge, knowing that Jordan is entirely correct. That he’d let his own prejudices get in the way. He passed judgment on Stiles where it wasn’t his right. He’d been horrible to Stiles when the man placed so much trust in him. There was a time when he’d considered Stiles trust to be a foolhardy thing. Especially when just seeing Stiles made Derek’s stomach turn. Now Derek feels as if he’s stepped in it. Like he’s been reprimanded as if he were a child. Certainly, he feels reprimanded. 

“What are you going to do now?” Derek asks as Jordan turns away to stalk away from the scene.

“I’m going to talk to the Sheriff and get to the bottom of what’s going on.” Jordan growls, “Then I’m going to email Stiles and apologize for not seeing things sooner. For not being there for him because just like you, I had my head in the sand and now a good man is hurt. If I were you, I’d start thinking of how to apologize. Then, I’d leave him the hell alone. Let him heal on his own, then he can decide if he even wants to come back to you but if I were him, Derek, I would leave you all behind.”

Jordan takes his leave of Derek and doesn’t look back. He’s perfectly happy to let the man sit and stew in his own regret. Jordan knows that Derek will regret what he’s done to Stiles for the rest of his life. He knows that he’ll regret not helping Stiles before he’d left. Heading back to the station, Jordan can’t help but feel a sense of trepidation. He knows that Stiles left for a reason and all these things are beginning to come together to form a bigger picture. The station is quiet and there’s only a little bit of activity at the moment. He can see a dim light coming from the Sheriff’s office.  _ Here we go _ , Jordan thinks. He knocks on the door lightly, signaling his presence to the man buried in paperwork.

“Jordan, I thought you went home hours ago,” Noah comments, only taking a moment to glance at the man before returning to the task at hand.

“Sir, I need to talk seriously,” Jordan says. Noah stops what he’s doing, sighs and motions for Jordan to take a seat.

“What about?”

“I was hoping to talk to you about Stiles, sir,” Jordan says. He sees Noah’s shoulders slump a little at the mention of his son. Parrish is aware that their family isn’t his jurisdiction. He has no right to speak to their relationship but as a concerned friend, he knows that he needs to talk about it now, “Are you aware that no one has seen or heard from Stiles in a week?”

“What?” Noah grows confused. The jeep has been at the house every time he’s been there. Sure, he hasn’t gone into Stiles’ room or seen him about the house, but he’s sure his son has been around town.

“I called Scott today when I didn’t see Stiles in the office for the last few days. Scott hasn’t even talked to him in God knows how long and Derek says he hasn’t been over since last week when they had. . .an altercation.” Jordan says, “No one has seen him and his jeep has been sitting for a week now, it hasn’t been ran in a while.”

“You’re saying my son is missing?” Noah asks. Jordan wants to roll his eyes, clearly, everyone is as slow as Derek. 

“No. I don’t think he’s missing. I think he left.” Jordan says carefully. He can see the wheels turning in Noah’s head. He’s thinking and trying to remember. He’s only had a few drinks up until then and now that Jordan is telling him this, he feels the strong urge to drink again.

“Why would he have left?” Noah asks stupidly.

“Sir, can you remember the last time you spoke to Stiles?” Jordan asks, “Can you think of anything that could have set Stiles off?”

“Jordan, with all due respect, I don’t think you’re privy to my personal-”

“I know you’re drinking again.” Jordan says bluntly, “I saw you drinking on the job earlier today and sir, I think you have a problem.”

“How  _ dare _ you.” The Sheriff turns volatile. Jordan sees the anger in his eyes and the deep frown. He thinks that Jordan is threatening him, and Jordan guesses that maybe he is.

“Sir, you know I hold you in high regard, I’ve always had a high respect for you and I’ve been friends with Stiles for a long time.” Jordan stands, rising to the Sheriff’s challenge, “Seeing you drink at work completely shattered the respect I had for you. Do you know how much shit the department or yourself for that matter would get if you did something under the influence at work? And you drove here drunk! I could smell it on you when you came in!”

“You have no idea the pressure! The fucking stakes that are running so high for me! So what if I need a little help? Nothing bad has happened and I’ve got it under control!” The Sheriff shouts, “As for Stiles, I don’t know where he is! I haven’t seen in since last week and I’m fucking  _ glad. _ You’re just like him. Butting your nose into other people’s business. I’ve got news for you, deputy, that you’re treading a thin line and-”

“I’m going to report you to internal affairs first thing in the morning,” Jordan’s voice is deadly serious and his eyes hold only contempt for the man he’d once admired so much. The Sheriff looks pissed, he  _ is _ pissed. He doesn’t feel anything other than anger and he’s too blinded by his own hatred of Jordan to think of his son and all the damage that he’s caused. Jordan sees now that the Sheriff is too deep in his addiction, too dependent and he can’t be helped. At least, Parrish isn’t the one could help him now. That breaks his heart.

Walking out of that office now, he feels something inside of him settle and he feels sick. It needs to happen, Noah needs help but first, the man needs to hit rock bottom and with Jordan’s help, he’ll hit it sooner rather than later. He only hopes that Stiles will understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, back in BH!  
> Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!


	5. Injustice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'm so sorry it took me so long to post. It's been a crazy couple of weeks and I've been so exhausted. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I'm gearing up for the big character reveal in the next chapter that I've decided to take a chance and pair with Stiles. . .I'm a little nervous because I've never written Stiles in with any other character besides Derek but I really want to try something new and even though I know a lot of people don't like this character or feel mixed over him, I want to give their pairing a shot and shock the masses. Things are gonna get juicy!  
> I love all of your comments, they fuel my fire and stoke my flames. . .<3

Two days before they leave their little bubble, Tim presents Stiles with a simple leather string with a glinting shark tooth. It was a tooth that he had found one day while driving. He thought it was the coolest thing and giving it to Stiles made him feel so fucking happy. He tied it around his neck and knew he would never throw it away. The tooth settles over his heart and the firm press of it against his skin constantly reminds Stiles of what he’s found.

One day before they leave their little bubble, Stiles is sitting by the peer. He’s anxious today. Terrified for leaving his little home. He’s afraid that he’ll forget. He’ll forget all that he’s learned here on this beach with this pack. He’s so terrified that the guys can smell his pungent anxiety and convince Stiles to get his first tattoo to commemorate all of it. They even paid for it. It took only half an hour and Stiles now permanently has the coordinates for Laguna beach going down his side. It burned and hurt like a bitch, but Stiles loved it and couldn’t help but thank all his injuries for the loss of his fear of blood and needles. Stiles couldn’t be happier about the new ink on his body. Couldn’t be happier about controlling something so massive. It was exhilarating, really, and Stiles knew he would be getting more.

It took a month. An entire month of living on the beach with virtually no responsibilities, taking his time to heal before he decided to check his email. It was the first time he’d even considered looking into it. He hadn’t wanted to contact anyone from home and he sure as hell didn’t want to see if they contacted him. He hadn’t been strong enough. However, all this time he’s spent with Jake and the pack, he feels like he might just be strong enough now. He might just be able to see if they tried to contact him at all. Jake let Stiles use his laptop and the pack left to go surf, giving Stiles enough privacy. It took only a moment to log in and only a moment to regret it.

The third thing that Stiles knows to be painfully true and is reminded all too well in that moment. Is that you can’t unring a bell. There were over five hundred emails. Most of them junk. Most of them not important. He narrowed it down to around two hundred emails. Stiles didn’t think they cared. Not enough to warrant this much attention. He kept going and started with the easy ones. From Malia, Lydia, Mason, Corey, and the others. All of their emails were the same. Going from where are you to come home pretty quickly. Scott’s are the same. They’re quick and get to the point. _Where are you? Where did you go? We found your phone. Why did you leave? Don’t you know we need you here? You’re being selfish. Come home._ Each one only cements Stiles’ knowledge that Scott is a selfish bastard. Even after a month, they hadn’t gotten any better. They hadn’t changed. They hadn’t been about Stiles. They had been about Scott. It lit a fire inside of Stiles and he debated whether or not he wanted to read his father’s emails. In the end, he decided against the personal growth for the night and determined that he’d made enough progress in the forgiveness department, so he closes out of his email and slams the laptop shut in a fury. He’d done enough for one night.

Jake and the others didn’t see Stiles until the next day before they were leaving. Stiles had gone out and laid by the seawall, he felt like he needed to be close to the sea. He needed to feel the vast emptiness in front of him. Stiles needed to know that he wasn’t the only thing that was empty. The wolves had found him hours later, they brought blankets and firewood, deciding to stay out with their friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tim asked hopefully. They’re silent for a few minutes while Stiles gathers his thoughts.

“I read Scott’s emails. There were a lot of them but for the most part, he sounded mad that I left. Angry because I should know that they needed me for stuff there and that it was irresponsible of me to just up and leave. That I should have told him.” Stiles murmured, “It was a lot about him. It’s always been about him.”

Jake pats him on the back with a supporting hand. The others give him sad nods and help him get his board on top of the others on the van’s roof rack. It’s time to go. Time to leave another home. Stiles wonders if that’s all he’ll ever do anymore. Leave home.

 

. . . .

 

 _To:_ [ _sstilinski24@gmail.com_ ](mailto:sstilinski24@gmail.com)

_From:_ [ _Smccall11@gmail.com_ ](mailto:Smccall11@gmail.com)

 

_Where are you man? No one can get ahold of you. Call me back when you get this._

 

 _To:_ [ _sstilinski24@gmail.com_ ](mailto:sstilinski24@gmail.com)

_From:_ [ _Smccall11@gmail.com_ ](mailto:Smccall11@gmail.com)

 

_This isn’t funny anymore. We’re starting to think you got your ass kidnapped again. Call me. Your dad is furious._

 

 _To:_ [ _sstilinski24@gmail.com_ ](mailto:sstilinski24@gmail.com)

_From:_ [ _Smccall11@gmail.com_ ](mailto:Smccall11@gmail.com)

 

_We tracked your scent to the bus station. We also found your phone. Did you leave town? Seriously? We’re dealing with a coven of witches and you choose now to leave town? I never thought you could be so selfish. When you see these emails, you better believe that we’ll be having words. Call me._

 

 _To:_ [ _sstilinski24@gmail.com_ ](mailto:sstilinski24@gmail.com)

_From:_ [ _Smccall11@gmail.com_ ](mailto:Smccall11@gmail.com)

 

_I don’t know what got into you but it’s been a month. Your dad is drinking again and we don’t know what to do. Come home. Stop being so childish and come home._

  


_._ _._ _._

 

Stiles didn’t talk on the drive down to San Diego. He appreciated the guys trying to take his mind off of it but if he was being honest, all he wanted to do was let it stew for a while. Upon reaching San Diego, the guys stopped at the beach first, happy to catch some waves off of Mission Beach before returning to their apartments nearby. Stiles suited up and pulled out his board, being the first one in the water, he just took a minute to lay on his board out past the break. His paddle in his hands and a small smile on his face as he pulled his wetsuit around his hips, exposing his chest to the warm sun. Out here on the ocean, things are quiet. Things are calm and everything is just. . .simple. None of his problems existed out here. The rise and fall of the waves, the pull of the currents, the smell. Stiles isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to leave. As it is, he knows that no matter where he ends up, he’ll be returning to the ocean as often as possible. In Beacon Hills, Stiles knows that there are three major lakes and only one that is calm enough for paddle boarding.

Nothing could compare to the ocean. If he moved here, he could live on the beach. In a beach house if he could ever afford it. He decides to take things one day at a time. Stiles is living in a two-story house with twelve dudes. There are two bunk beds in each room and Stiles has the pleasure of sleeping downstairs on the futon. It’s by no means glamorous but Stiles is happy. The pack is happy and they’re all together. That’s all that Stiles could have ever asked for. He loves to see how close they are in a setting like this. Some of them are working and some of them are going to school but they all come back to this place. Stiles made dinner for everyone on their fifth night back. They sat wherever there was an open place to sit, happily scarfing down Stiles’ homecooked spaghetti.

“This is delicious, Mitch,” Alex said, “Where did you learn how to cook this good?”

“I kinda had to learn on my own.” Stiles shrugged, “I was on my own a lot and I either learned how to cook or I’d have to go out or I didn’t eat at all.”

“We’re glad you’re here. Tim is the only one who knows how to cook but he only knows like seven dishes.” Jake pokes his friend in the ribs.

“Hey,” Tim looks at Stiles with a smile. He pulls a flier out of his pocket and hands it to him, “SDSU is opening enrollment for late transfer students. I thought that with all those credits you took at Columbia, maybe you could pick up where you left off here.”

Stiles takes the flier, unsure of how he feels about it just yet. He’s grateful, however, that Tim was kind enough to grab him a flier. He nods and thanks him in a quiet voice, pocketing the flier. Stiles hadn’t considered transferring credits to another school. Sure, he could, he got all of his prerequisites done that first year. He’d been the crazy student who took around twenty credits each semester to try and get through it faster. He’d needed to get permission and he’d nearly killed himself with all that work but it was all to keep him distracted from missing home. It had worked for a while too. Maybe he should look into it again. He doesn’t even know what he’d have to do to get enrolled. Who would he talk to?

“Everything you need to know is on that flier,” Tim says, reading Stiles’ facial expressions. It’s quiet after that. Everyone talks amongst themselves and Stiles is grateful for the attention coming off of him. He’s not sure if he’ll go back to school or even what he would study. Would he go back to law enforcement like he was doing before? Maybe he could do something different, something he actually enjoys. He loved the investigations, he loved the questions and he loved that aspect of law enforcement and he’s always been good at it. With the FBI he was involved in all aspects of an investigation and though he loved it, he hated the chain of command, all the rules and regulations. He needs something he could be independent in. _Not lawless,_ Stiles thinks, _just independent._

. . .

In the end, Stiles makes the decision to go back to school. He contacted one of the enrollment counselors as SDSU and figured out how to get his credits transferred over. He took out a private loan, which made his brain hurt, but he did it. He got to enroll before the drop/add date. He couldn’t thank Tim enough. Once he was actually enrolled in his classes, he felt like things were coming back to him. He feels like he’s finally reentering his own body and can move forward. He’d spent a while trying to figure out what he wanted to study, what he wanted to do for the rest of his life and when he finally settled on continuing his criminal justice degree. He’s already a year into it and with all the classes he’s taking to catch up, he’ll be ahead in no time. He’s taking as many classes as he possibly can to get out of college sooner.

Stiles doesn’t think about anything other than school. He gets an internship at the local police station and starts working there, his resume was already incredibly strong and getting hired there as a desk jockey wasn’t difficult. He was getting paid pretty fairly and in his spare time, he was surfing more. He spent whole weekends out on the water with the guys. Their bond grew over time and Stiles didn’t know that he’d ever want to be part of any other pack besides this one.

Months passed. Just like the summer had, Stiles kept busy. He went from work to school to the beach and repeated. He would pick up a guy at the nearest college bar that didn’t gross him out and he’d scratch the itch that was growing. No one tried to tell Stiles that he shouldn’t, no one told him that maybe sex wasn’t the answer for the slowly healing wound that still plagued Stiles. Instead, they would smile at him and tell him politely to take a shower. They would wake him in the middle of the night and hold him when his nightmares became too much for him to bear any longer. They took him to the beach and ran him ragged, chasing out all that energy and anxiety. Stiles grew to love them quickly.

Jake’s pack got Stiles to open up. Slowly but surely they all started to experience a different side of Stiles. Tim got to see Stiles’ playfulness while out on the surf. Eric experienced Stiles’ sarcasm first hand while playing his wingman one night while almost all of the pack members were looking for a companion for the night. Jake saw Stiles’ fierce loyalty when a classmate of his had been tormenting one of the pack members in the same class as Stiles. Jace, the youngest pack member, a boy no older than eighteen had just started college. Stiles always sat by Jace in class and the boy was extremely grateful to have Stiles there because, to be honest, Jace wasn’t all that good in school. The boy had grown up on the streets and when Jake found him and offered him the bite nearly a year and a half ago, he’s been Stiles’ baby ever since he’d been hanging around them. Another boy in their class had continuously ridiculed and demeaned Jace for not understanding the content or being late or simply for not being on the same level as the rest of the class. Jace took it in stride, not wanting to cause any trouble or make waves, but one day, Jace found himself shoved over a railing by the asshole who’s been tormenting him and he fell a few feet off one of the stairwells on campus. Stiles saw red and before the perp knew what hit him, Stiles had him against a wall with his face shoved painfully against plaster, one arm painfully twisted behind him and a very angry human kneeing the back of his thigh with entirely too much force.

“I ever see you come near my boy again and you’ll be in more pain than what you’re feeling now. You so much as even sneeze in his direction and it’ll be the last thing you ever do at this school.” Stiles threatens in a tone that Jace had never heard from him before. The youngest wolf had never so much as heard Stiles raise his voice at him and had certainly never heard Stiles threaten someone. Especially with this degree of seriousness and chill to his tone. Jace was absolutely awed by Stiles’ strength and conviction.

“What are you, gay?” The asshole struggled to get out of Stiles’ hold but failed and received a knee to the ribs as recompense for that comment.

“You bet your ass I am,” Stiles growls, “Jace is my friend and you’ll be wise to keep away from him. Oh, and tone down the homophobia. It’s 2018, shrimp dick.” Stiles shoves him out of the way when he believes the message to be drilled home and goes to walk with Jace back to class.

“Thanks,” Jace says, eyes still wide from watching the altercation. Stiles knows that the boy is a werewolf, capable of handling his own shit, but when he saw his friend being shoved. . .it set him off. That dormant protective instinct had come back with a vengeance and when Jake heard about it, he hugged Stiles fiercely.

“I can’t believe you’d do something like that for us.” Jake says thankfully.

“You guys are my friends, there isn’t a whole lot I _wouldn’t_ do for you guys.” Stiles shrugs like it’s nothing. He’s not used to getting thanked for his help.

“Mitch, I can’t tell you what it means to us that you care about us like that.” Jake says. The entire pack nods in agreement. Their shared emotions are all echoing the same sentiment. “At the end of the summer, when we met you, we offered you a place in this pack. We want to tell you again, that that spot is still waiting for you and it always will be.”

“We love you, Mitch. It didn’t take us long to see how great you are and how much we appreciate you. It’s unbelievable how much you fit into the group and we’re truly hoping that one day, you’ll be one of us. . .officially.” Tim says with a smile. The pack nods again and Jace takes his hand, urging him with big blue puppy dog eyes to say yes, to give them the okay to form the bonds. Stiles is moved. He’s only known these guys for half a year and yet they’ve grown to love him more in a shorter amount of time than his old pack had. It’s just another reminder of how different this pack is from the former. Stiles had been reluctant at first, fearful of joining another pack that would inevitably treat him the same way that the others had, but getting to know them, living with them and growing with them, he’s realized that they’ve given him more than he could ever give them. They gave him a home, a family, friends and somewhere to belong. They gave him respect and honesty, time and closure. They helped to heal his wounds and though they’re not completely gone, Stiles can live with them now. He can look at his scars now.

“I would love to be a part of your pack.” Stiles tells Jake. Almost instantly, Stiles feels the feint bonds that he had already begun forming, snap into place like iron chains. He felt warm and whole again. He felt so overwhelmingly good that he couldn’t stop the tears from forming. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes and the pack closed ranks around him, enveloping him in a warm, group hug. Stiles never knew that it could feel this good. The bonds from his old pack had faded slowly and painfully over time and now they were completely severed. He hadn’t felt any pain at the breaking of those bonds, but he did feel the ghost of those bonds in his soul. Like he’d lost _something_ but couldn’t figure out what. It hadn’t been as painful as Stiles thought it would be. Perhaps the slow fade over time eased the break.

Now, all Stiles could feel was contentment and fulfillment.


	6. Keep Living

Something is wrong. There’s something missing. Something that was there before is suddenly not there now. Derek paces the floor of his loft, angrily glaring down at the floor. He’s trying to figure out why he feels so suddenly  _ wrong. _ There’s an absence inside of him, he hadn’t even been aware that there was something to miss. Something snapped inside him and he couldn’t figure out what it was but for some reason, missing that thing made him a little restless. It’s been a total of three hours since that thing snapped and he’s trying to remember the last time he felt like this because he knows he’s felt it before but he couldn’t put his finger on it. His phone rings just then, bringing him out of his thought harshly. 

“What do you want McCall?” Derek asks gruffly.

“ _ You feel it too then _ ?” Scott sounds rough. Like he’s swallowed a bag of nails.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Derek denies.

“ _ Sometimes I think you forget I can hear when you lie to me _ .” Scott snaps, “ _ Stiles’ pack bond is gone. Lydia called me and told me that she doesn’t feel him dying but she’s also pissed at me for not talking to Stiles before he up and left _ .”

“So you’re telling me that a human was able to form and break pack bonds?” Derek asks doubtfully.

“ _ I guess so. _ ” Scott grunts, “I knew he was upset but I never knew that he was pissed enough to just drop the pack like that.”

“I think there was a lot going on with Stiles we didn’t know about.” Derek sighs. He falls into his sofa, regret sinking into his bones making him feel like he weighs a ton, “Jordan filled me in the other day, I assume he called you too.

“ _ He did _ ,” Scott mirrors Derek’s regret. It’s ironic that Scott just scolded Derek for not remembering that Scott can hear when he lies when that statement goes both ways and Derek just heard Scott’s lie. He doesn’t know what’s been happening in Beacon Hills because he hadn’t been answering his phone. Derek knew this because Jordan told him that every time he tried to contact Scott, he could never get through. Scott had been actively ignoring Parrish’s calls, “ _ We really dropped the ball when it came to Stiles. I thought that he was solid, that I didn’t have to worry about him. I guess I was wrong. I’m not sure where he slipped up but he clearly couldn’t handle all the pressure _ .”

“You know his dad’s drinking again?” Derek asks pointedly, as if Scott didn’t already know, “Jordan’s acting sheriff until elections can be held.”

“ _ What? No, Noah slips up here and there but he always gets his shit together in time _ .” Scott scoffs, “ _ What is Jordan thinking _ ?”

“He’s been trying to get Noah into rehab but it hasn’t been working.” Derek says, “Scott, I think we did more than just drop a ball. Stiles really needed help and we weren’t there for him. I think we really fucked up here. Stiles is still in the wind and he doesn’t even know that his father is out of a job and drinking himself into an early grave.”

The line goes silent for a minute before Scott begins talking again.

“ _ Derek, I’ve known the sheriff for a long time. He’s practically been like a father to me. He had times when we were growing up that he would drink, but Stiles always put it out of proportion. Noah was always on the straight and narrows when he went to work and never shirked his responsibilities.” _ Scott told Derek in a confident tone, “ _ I think everyone is making a big deal of something that is just going to blow over in a week or so. Noah never lets anyone down.” _

“I don’t think this time is the same, Scott.” Derek warns.

_ “Whatever man, Stiles still isn’t responding to my emails. Has he contacted you at all?”  _ Scott asks. Derek feels a moment of irritation at being disregarded so quickly but shoves it aside to address the issue.

“No. I haven’t emailed Stiles.” Derek admits, “I don’t know what to say to him.”

_ “Tell him to quit being a drama queen and come back.”  _ Derek can imagine Derek rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think that would help the situation.” Derek rolls his own eyes at Scott’s stupidity.

“ _ We just need to get him back. Besides, how mad could he be? It’s been half a year already! He doesn’t stay mad at me for long. I’m sure it’ll be resolved quickly.” _ Scott sounds so sure but Derek knows better.

Derek knows that they all really hurt Stiles and no one knows what pushed him over the edge but slowly, Derek realized that it had to be something huge. It had to be something monumental and it was something that Derek missed. Jordan had scolded him so thoroughly that he realized no one had been in Stiles’ corner. Even Derek’s tough love had been betrayal in its simplest form. Though Derek couldn’t bring himself to feel truly at fault, he did feel bad for not being there for Stiles and for betraying his trust. Derek thought that with time, Stiles would come back and pretend like nothing bad had happened like he usually did, he didn’t think that Stiles would actually be so mad that he would break the bonds. Even now, Derek struggled to bring himself to feel much more than little pinpricks of guilt. Derek knew that it took him much longer and far more energy to feel more than mild emotions. He knew that he’d always been quick to anger and slower to literally any other emotion. He blames his past. 

Stiles though. . .Derek couldn’t bring himself to care about the boy any more than he had a day or two ago. He didn’t think he’d ever feel the same way that he’d felt years ago when the boy was young and hopeful. Sarcastic and witty. Derek had liked Stiles. He’d felt something for the boy that somehow had petered out over time and he couldn’t even remember the feeling. He thinks back to the weeks that the boy had spent coming to him for solace, for shelter from everything imploding in his life. He’d been annoyed at the sentiment. Before when Stiles came to him, he knew it was because Stiles liked him. Derek could smell the lust on the boy and speaking honestly, Derek enjoyed being lusted after. He enjoyed having Stiles crushing over him and directing his attention towards Derek. It had turned disgusting in those weeks that Stiles was weak. Perhaps that’s why he can’t feel much more than little amounts of guilt and regret.  _ I’m still not going to email him.  _ Derek thinks to himself,  _ if Scott wants Stiles back then they can work that out. _

_ But then why does this broken bond feel so wrong? _

. . .

“Mitch!” Jace called down the hall to the room he shared with his friend, “We’re just waiting on you!”

“Calm down, puppy.” Stiles teases, “I’m coming.”

It’s a three day weekend, Veteran’s day is a big weekend for beachgoers but the pack is perfectly content to go night surfing at Mission Beach. Stiles had been doing nothing but go to work, school, and home. It’s been too long since they’ve done anything fun and now is the best time to get it done. The lights from the city illuminate the water and the full moon is lighting up the sky. It’s cold, and it’s mid-November. The wolves aren’t bothered by the temperature, Stiles knows that he’ll have to keep moving to stay warm, but he also knows that surfing in this temperature isn’t impossible. For weeks he’s been watching videos of people glacier surfing in Alaska and big wave surfing in Antarctica. He’s eager to put both of those on his bucket list. 

“Alright, boys.” Jake says as they unload the van, “Let’s get a good spot then set up camp for the night.”

They whoop and holler, Stiles has always felt the cold keenly and he’s the only one wrapped up in a parka. They made fun of him for only a minute before they heard his teeth chattering. Stiles hauls his stuff in their shared wagon but carries his board under his arm. It’s a short walk to the beach and even quicker finding a good spot. There’s a mild storm out that’s creating good seven-foot waves and Stiles is eager to get out in the water. Some of the guys get the fire going on the beach while others are laying out blankets. Once the fire is going, they quickly get into their wetsuits.

“Alright guys, you know the rules, we all stay close to each other and Mitch, I want you taking periodic breaks to come and warm up.” Jake says to everyone. There’s a collective nod before their fearless leader begins sprinting towards the surf. 

Stiles races behind them, laughing and shrieking when his body makes contact with the cold water. It’s more than brisk but he pushes through and follows his friends into the water. They paddle out past the breaks and get out into the open water. They’re close enough to the pier that there’s plenty of light and even Stiles can see fairly well. It’s his first time night surfing and he’s nervous as hell but so far, he’s doing well and he’s excited. 

“Here we go! The first wave of the night!” Eric calls from a distance away. Stiles strains his eyes to see the beginning of a swell. He follows his friend’s lead and begins paddling, working to catch the wave. It’s easy enough to catch it and take the relatively small wave for a ride, but it builds and builds, Stiles feels the rush of the cold air biting at his skin. He hears the power of the wave and feels the rush of adrenaline in his veins. He’s gaining speed and lets his body take over. It’s a great first wave and the guys all cheer him on, it makes his heart want to explode with happiness. Stiles knows he’s hooked.

The night goes on like this. Wave after wave, the guys surf in the dark. Stiles fumbles a couple times as do some of the wolves. When they return to the beach after a couple hours spent on the water, they’re cold, tired and hungry. Their muscles all ache and they’re running on adrenaline. They’re all smiles and Stiles feels like he couldn’t get enough of this. He’s wrapped in his parka, sitting close to the fire to get warm again. Jace and Tim sit close to him, sharing body heat. They’re roasting marshmallows. Stiles can’t even remember the last time he got to do this. He can’t remember the last time he had felt this tuned in to his friends. They shared stories about their pasts, about school and stupid ghost stories. Some of them tossed around an LED frisbee. It’s a great night for Stiles and he’s loving it.  

“Are you excited to sit in on that trial on Monday?” Jake asks Stiles and Jace.

“I’m excited,” Jace laughs, “Mitch has been to a bunch of trials though so he’s not particularly excited.”

“It’s only a murder trial.” Stiles shrugs, “I’m looking forward to knowing the details of the case, our professor didn’t share anything about it but I processed some of the paperwork for it at work already so I know the gist of what’s happening.”

“What happened?” Eric asks, interested in the trial.

“This dude murdered his wife for her money. Poisoned her drinking water with eye drops for a couple days until she croaked.” Stiles laughs at the absurdity.

“Seriously? Eye drops can kill you?” Tim chuckles.

“Yeah, they’re super deadly. If injested, they can cause organ failure and all that jazz.” Stiles grins, “It’s an interesting case but it’s not too terribly big. Though I guess murder is murder. It’s a big deal.”

“I should like to think so,” Jake laughs at Stiles’ blase comment.

“It’s my first trial and I’m ecstatic, I can’t wait to see how it all works.” Jace grins brightly. Stiles ruffles his hair and calls him adorable.

“Only a few of us are going, it’s really a great opportunity. Especially since our professor hand picks who gets to go on these field trips with him.” Stiles says. Out of one hundred and twelve students, his professor picked ten people to go with him. Their teacher only does a couple of these field trips for extra credit in a semester and the class they’re taking on criminal proceedings is difficult enough. Stiles doesn’t need the extra credit, he’s a straight A student and too bright for his own good, but he enjoys the competition. He liked being picked out of a large group. Stiles knows that it’ll get him in the door in this world. His professor only teaches on the side. In reality, Professor Payne owns his own private investigation office. He’s one of the most reputable PI services in the county. He’s got PIs in different organizations, working for law firms across California and he’s mentored PIs who work in all kinds of places. He’s a very important person to impress and Stiles has been impressing the man all semester long. 

“You gotta tell us why he did it when you come home.” Tim urges. The other wolves around the fire, Jared, Percy, Mike and Will all nod in eager agreement. 

“Eric, I swear if you throw that frisbee in the ocean you’re swimming out for it!” Jake scolds his beta loudly.

“Sorry, boss!” Came Eric’s reply. Stiles yawned audibly, making everyone around him laugh, “How’d you like your first night surfing session?” Eric called over to them.

“It was good.” Stiles laughs, “It was awesome, really, I’ve never done something so physically taxing yet fun. I swear I feel awesome right now.”

“It’s a lot harder in the dark, isn’t it?” Jake laughs. His bright eyes glint in the fire and the mischief in his smile makes Stiles grin back just as devilishly.

“Lots of things get harder in the dark,” Stiles teases, his eyebrows wiggle suggestively. The guys groan collectively and Jace even punches his shoulder lightly. 

It’s a very good evening. Surrounded by people that love Stiles and are good to him, he feels like he’s come home.

. . .

“I’m  _ eighteen _ .” Jace complains petulantly, “I shouldn’t have to wear a stinkin’ suit.”

“It’s proper courtroom attire, puppy.” Stiles says from the bathroom. He’s getting dressed behind closed doors, suiting up for court. Jace is grumbling from their bedroom, unhappy at having to wear is newly purchased ‘monkey suit’ as he calls it. Stiles had invested in a suit a long time ago, when he was interviewing, he’d sprung for a new suit. Something tailored to show people that he’s capable of being a grown up, that he cares about how he looks. Of course, he hadn’t spent a whole lot on the ensemble, but he liked how he looked in it. He pressed his slim fit dark gray slacks that morning and ironed his white button-down shirt. He ties his maroon tie, staring into the mirror. It’s been a long time since he’s worn a tie but his fingers don’t need his brain to remind them how to properly tie a tie. 

He buttons his sleeve cuffs and slides the matching gray coat over his shoulders. It’s been cold out and he was happy that he invested in a gray scarf to go with his suit. He tucked it inside the lapels and placed the silver tie clip he bought off Amazon a week ago in its rightful spot. He gelled his hair into a styled mess and made sure there was no stubble left on his face.  _ I look like a respectable member of society _ , Stiles thinks to himself. 

He steps out of the bathroom and upon laying eyes on his puppy, begins laughing hysterically. The boy looks too awkward. His black slacks are too big on him and so is the white button-down shirt he’s wearing. The tie is crocked and looks to be in a complete knot. Jace looks anxious and so painfully awkward. 

“Well why do you look good?” Jace whines, stomping his foot lightly.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles laughs, holding his ribs, “Didn’t you even try these clothes on before you bought them?” Stiles asks.

“Well no. . .I just grabbed my size! I did this last minute, I thought it would be fine!” Jace defends.

“Oh Jace,” Stiles shakes his head. When he meets Jace’s eyes though, he sees the shine of tears and can’t stand it, “Okay, okay, relax, pup. You can borrow one of my button downs, they’ll fit you better. Take off your pants so I can go hem them really quickly.” Stiles slips his jacket off and his scarf to get to work. He doesn’t have time to sew a new hem on the boy’s pants but he thanks God that he had purchased adhesive tape. Jace does as he’s asked and hands Stiles his pants, grateful for the help.

“In the top drawer of my dresser, my shoe polish kit is in there. Get it out and polish those shoes. Where did you get them?” Stiles criticizes gently as he untangles the boy’s misshapen tie. 

“Goodwill. . .” He admits bashfully.

“They’re in good shape but they need a polish badly.” Stiles says, “All you need to do is rub the brush in the black polish and just lightly brush your shoes until the polish is rubbed into the shoe.” Stiles instructs. He finally gets his tie undone, “Tim! Can you get the iron going again?”

“Sure thing,” Tim calls from the kitchen. Once Jace picks out a shirt, he hands it to Stiles and the man rushes to iron it. 

“I knew I should have helped Jace sooner.” Stiles scolds himself. Tim laughs and nods.

“Puppy needs a lot of help, don’t he?” Tim chuckles, “We all should have double checked to make sure he would look alright.”

“Could you get my sewing kit out? I gotta hem these pants.” Stiles sighs. He works quick and gets the shirt done. Next are the pants and he makes quick work about it. Truthfully, Stiles could sew a hem exceptionally well. He’d had to fix many of his clothes when he was younger and he’d always have to patch some of his dad’s clothes back together. They hadn’t had a lot of money and Stiles usually had to improvise. He’d gotten handy with his mother’s sewing machine. When he gets the hems done, he takes everything back to his puppy. 

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Stiles says, “I’ll tie your tie.”

“Thanks, Mitch.” Jace sighs in relief.

“Anytime, puppy.” Stiles smiles, “Hurry so we can stop before court and get breakfast. I want a bagel.” 

Jace hurries and dresses. The boy combed his blonde hair, Stiles let him use some of his gel and Stiles had been sure to tell him to shave. When Jace emerges, he looks much more professional. 

“That’s much better.” Stiles says, “You can borrow Jake’s peacoat. He won’t mind.” 

“Thanks, dad.” Jace says before rushing off to their coat closet. Stiles chuckles at the serious term of endearment. He returns with the coat as Stiles is slipping his own outerwear on. 

“Alright, we’ll be back for dinner.” Stiles grabs his wallet and waves goodbye to Tim. 

“Have fun! Take a picture of Jace in front of the courthouse for the photo album, would you?” Tim yells as they walk out the door. 

Stiles shivers at the cold blast of air that slams into him the moment they step outside. It’s sixty degrees out and he’s feeling it keenly. They hurry off to the shared pack car and begin their journey to the courthouse. They stop for a bagel at the nearest Einsteins and enjoy their breakfast on the drive down. 

“Remember that whenever you shake someone’s hand, firm handshake.” Stiles tells Jace, “A firm handshake says a lot about a man.” He says as he parks the car in the nearest parking lot. 

“I got it,” Jace laughs, “You gave me a big lecture yesterday about behavior.” 

“Just wanna make sure you know what’s gonna happen.” Stiles smiles at the boy, “Alright, let’s get inside.”

The San Diego Central Courthouse is a beautiful, large and breathtaking building. Stiles has never seen a courthouse so impressive before and Jace is clearly awestruck. The boy is eager to take pictures in front of the building. After gathering photographic evidence, they head inside. They spot their professor surrounded by a few other members of their chosen group and he quickly runs through court rules again before they go inside. Stiles tuned him out, though, as he’s already well aware of all the rules and best behaviors. When they enter the room where the trial is being held, the defense, prosecution teams and jury are already seated and they’re just waiting for the judge. Stiles slips off his suit jacket and lays it on the bench between himself and Jace before slipping in. 

“Stiles?” He hears his name and he cringes at the name he hasn’t heard himself be called in a long time now. He looks up with a grimace to meet piercing blue eyes. Stiles hasn’t seen those eyes or the person that belongs to them in. . .almost two years. This person had disappeared from his life. From  _ everyone’s _ lives. He was the first one to run away and Stiles knows the reason why he up and left. His motives uncannily similar to Stiles’ own.

“Mitch, you know this guy?” Jace smelled the unknown wolf and is confused at him addressing his pack mate by another name. He’s getting territorial. Stiles had hoped that he’d never be outed as someone else, he thought he’d left his old life behind but obviously, it’s still chasing after him. 

“Peter,” Stiles says, voice as neutral as he can keep it, “It’s been a while.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks, surprise evident on the man’s face. “Everyone’s looking for you, no one knows where you are. . .”

“I know. I’ve read the emails.” Stiles frowns, “I trust that you won’t be letting everyone know where I am if I ask nicely?” Peter considers his request, looking him up and down before schooling his expression and composing himself once again. There’s a small, careful smirk on his face and he nods back at the man.

“I’ll consider it, if you allow me to take you to dinner after court lets out today.” Peter counters. Stiles inhales sharply, working to conceal his anxiety. Peter scents it on the man and knows that he’s thinking about it. Peter only knows what Derek shared with him. His nephew had called him when Stiles first went missing. Albeit, it was a while before anyone even noticed that Stiles had disappeared, but they eventually got around to letting him know. Peter hadn’t been surprised that Stiles had up and left. After spending a good amount of time in the veil with the boy during the whole hunt debacle, he had grown to appreciate the boy even more than he already had and knew that no one was really giving Stiles what he was owed. Not to mention, McCall’s pack was so unlike a pack that it was pitiful.  

Peter had been completely shocked to see Stiles walk into the courtroom, completely different than how he remembered the boy. He’s not a boy anymore, he’s a man, and Peter found himself appreciating this grown-up man in front of him. Then he smelled the scents of other wolves on Stiles and knew that he’d fallen in with another pack, but Stiles looked great. He looked like he was happy and the wolf that’s with him is clearly protective over the human. The young pup had called Stiles  _ Mitch _ . So clearly Stiles was going by another name. He’s not sure if he liked Mitch better or worse than Stiles. He’d made the offer quickly and hopefully, hoping that he could just get a chance to see if Stiles is okay, if he’s happy and well taken care of as well as get the full story on why he’d left. If anyone could understand, it’s Peter. 

“Dinner it is then, creeperwolf.” Stiles uses his old nickname and earns a pearly white smile from the man. Peter isn’t willing to push his luck so he returns to his bench and prepares the case. He’s prosecuting and he’s confident he’s going to be winning this case. It’s practically in the bag. Stiles watches Peter return to his seat and entire shift personas. He’s in work mode and Stiles can’t help but stare. Seeing Peter’s demeanor completely change is entrancing and Stiles begins marking all the differences.

“Mitch, who was that?” Jace fails in getting Stiles’ attention, “Earth to Mitch!” 

“Sorry, puppy,” Stiles shakes out of his reverie, “Just an old friend from back home.”

“He called you Stiles. . .” Jace comments cautiously. He knows that Stiles is touchy about his past and never really shares about the people he once knew or the pack he was once apart of.

“It was another life.” Stiles tells him, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“You’re not really going to go to lunch with him, right?” Jace asks worriedly, “He’s a strange wolf and he could be dangerous!”

“Peter is one of the most dangerous wolves I’ve ever met,” Stiles nods, “But he isn’t murderous, not anymore, and he won’t hurt me.”

“Mitch. . .I don’t think it’s a good idea to-”

“I’ll be fine. Peter and I go way back.” Stiles says, “Now hush, the judge is walking in.” He sees the look on his puppy’s face and sighs, “I promise I’ll be careful and we’ll talk about all of this later with the pack. I’m not going to repeat everything more than once.”

Jace still doesn’t look sure or happy about it but nods and settles into his seat, knowing that Stiles will keep his word. He trusts Mitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let me just say that the response that I've gotten from all of you reading my story has really thrilled me. Seeing the numbers climb and seeing all the comments makes me beyond happy. Please please keep reading, I really loved sharing this story and look forward to sharing many more!  
> I just want to address a few things:  
> 1\. The number one concern I've been hearing is that the relationship tag I have up is incorrect. While I completely understand the frustration, I will be the first to admit that I was going to make it a Sterek thing before I decided, you know what? Of all the stories where Stiles is pushed out of the pack, he more often than not forgives him and I was kinda tired of reading the same thing so I thought maybe I'd take a chance on another pairing. I didn't make the decision until recently, though and I'll be honest that when I did, I was afraid that y'all were here for the Sterek and would leave if you didn't get it. So I really hope that if that is you, then you stick around and explore this new pairing with me.  
> 2\. I didn't put the new pairing tag up just yet because I didn't want to spoil it for y'all but after this chapter, I'm sure you'll all figure it out. I promise I'll change the tags soon.  
> 3\. Please let me know what you want to see now, I'm happy to take in new ideas and incorporate what you all want to read.  
> 4\. Thank you all for being patient with me and sticking with the story, I hope you all continue to read and love what I'm writing. I really appreciate all your support!
> 
> Some shameless self-promotion: I've written many other Sterek fics that are literally all Sterek so if you want it, check out my stuff!


	7. (Hold) Me Now

“Mitch, I really don’t think you should go alone,” Jace says nervously, fidgeting with the edge of Jake’s coat.

“It’s gonna be fine, Jace. Really, Peter’s an old friend, I’m perfectly safe.” Stiles tries to assure him, “Look, I texted Jake already and he’s a little on edge too. I need you to trust me, alright? Trust me when I tell you that I’m gonna be okay. I’ll see you when I get home. Take the car back, I’ll get back on my own.”

“Mitch-” Jace makes a move to try and return the keys that Stiles gave to him but Stiles refuses.

“Go home, pup, I’ll be there in a few hours,” Stiles says, giving a small smile and leaves him on the steps to the courthouse. He’d agreed to meet Peter at the Italian restaurant a couple blocks away and he was in much need of a walk to help prepare himself. 

He ignored Jace’s calls for him to return and hoped that the pack would understand that this is something he needed to do for himself. He felt a little sick to his stomach the closer he got to the restaurant. Stiles knows exactly how he felt about both of the Hale’s he’s known in his life. That base attraction he’d felt for Derek, the crush he’d formed and the trust he put in their relationship. He’d put a lot of stock in Derek. He’d thought that he had been a more stable, more trustworthy Hale. He had been terribly wrong and he’s terribly afraid that he’s going to put too much trust in this older Hale. True, he liked Peter. They had gone through enough to know that Peter hadn’t fucked him over in a long time. Though he’s not sure if he can trust Peter as far as he can throw the man. Which isn’t very far at all.

When he arrived at the restaurant, he’s hit with the delicious scent of food. He’s starving after a long day of court. Which, had been entirely boring. It was simply the first day of this trial and evidence was being presented, nothing more. Court would resume the following day. Watching Peter work was intriguing. He’s focused and ruthless, cunning and it’s amazing to Stiles. He felt honored getting to watch. He sees Peter standing outside the restaurant, waiting for him and he feels that sickness in his belly swirl and unsettles. Peter smells Stiles’ anxiety, his nerves, and wonders why he feels so viciously. 

“Relax, Stiles,” Peter opens, “I don’t know what happened but I respect your decision to leave. I know what it’s like. Shall we?” He motions to the door. Stiles takes a steadying breath and walks inside. Once seated, they order quickly and a strained silence falls over the both of them. Stiles is unsure how to begin.

“Derek called me. . .many months ago. Probably close to half a year ago. He said you had left town and no one could get a hold of you.” Peter begins, taking a sip of the bourbon he ordered, “Though he sounded quite irate, it seemed to be directed at you rather than himself for having lost you. So now I ask, why is that?”

“It wasn’t really Derek.” Stiles begins. He’d never had to share what happened so he’s unsure of when it started, “I quit school a while back. After my freshman year.”

“You were interning for the FBI, weren’t you? You didn’t like it?” Peter supplies for himself. Peter is fishing for information, Stiles knows this. He knows most of Peter's tricks by now. The man is transparent to Stiles. He knows people and he definitely knows Peter.

“No, there were a lot of beurocracy and rules. Not to mention all the protocols and how long I would have to be away and. . .honestly, I’m too much of a rule breaker for the FBI. After a couple small infractions for stupid things, I got kinda tired of it and realized I just wasn’t cut out for it.” Stiles shrugs. He pokes at the bread basket on the table, dipping little bits of it in the plate of oil and pepper Peter put together.

Peter watches Stiles pull apart the bread and sees that look in his eye. The resigned look, like the past, is the past and there’s nothing that he can change about it but he’s okay with it. Peter is happy that Stiles figured out that he didn’t agree with the FBI lifestyle instead of going through years of training and conforming only to be miserable and figure out that it just wasn’t the life he wanted. Better to figure all that out sooner rather than later.

“What are you studying now?” Peter asks. Stiles looks at Peter.  _ Why isn’t he asking what he really wants to know? _ Stiles asks himself,  _ why beat around the bush? _

“Criminal justice,” Stiles says slowly. He chews his bread carefully, keeping eye contact with the blue-eyed wolf. Peter takes the challenge in the man’s whiskey eyes and meets it, refusing to back down. It’s been a long time since Peter has looked into these eyes and he sees the same fire he saw years ago, just a little putout but still glowing like red-hot embers, just waiting to be lit again. Peter wonders what managed to put the boy’s fires out.

“When Derek called me, I thought you’d been snatched by some big bad that had moved into town, but then he told me that Jordan had laid into him about not being there for you or something to that degree,” Peter says, tearing off his own piece of bread. 

“I’m surprised anyone even noticed I was gone, to be honest. What’d it take them? Two weeks?” Stiles comments bitterly.

“It took Jordan a week.” Peter tells him, “Then it took several months for anyone to really realize that’d you’d wised up long ago.” Stiles feels a brush of indignation at the plain tone Peter used as if what happened didn’t mean anything. Like- “You were always several steps ahead of everyone. Your mind worked faster, was more cunning and ruthless. Stronger than the others. Traits that I admire in a wolf, traits that Scott certainly took for granted and Derek felt insignificant.”

Stiles is silent, unsure of what to say to that. He sees that Peter is smirking, knowing that he’s stumped him.

“And now you’ve gone and been snatched up by another pack. Probably one that you like, love, even. They obviously love you, you’re drenched in their scent. That pup you were with earlier didn’t seem to know your name so you must be going by a different one,” Peter surmises. He’s on a roll and Stiles doesn’t think he can stop him, nor would he want to, it’s easier that Peter answers his questions himself than have Stiles just. . .rehash everything, “But you seem well, happy and taken care of. You’ve made it this far under a new name, I’m sure you used it in all your papers in order to keep people from looking for you.”

The waiter comes by and breaks Peter’s long train of assumptions by taking their orders. Peter looks contemplative and it reminds Stiles of when Peter was in court earlier that day. He can practically see the wheels turning in the older man’s head. It’s mesmerizing.

“Well, you got it.” Stiles sighs, “The last six months summed up neat and nice.”

“Will you tell me why you left?” Peter asks, popping another bit of bread into his mouth. Stiles plays with his napkin nervously. Trying to figure out how to tell Peter that his father cast him out, banished him from his home and single-handedly sent Stiles into a depression that had he not been taken in by Jake and his pack, then he would surely have been lost. If Stiles thought too hard on it, he’d realize where that spiral would have led. The thought alone makes his whole body want to quake with fear. 

“I haven’t told anyone,” Stiles tells Peter. The older wolf sees how Stiles is struggling with it. How it hurts to even think about and though its been months, it’s still an open wound and is most likely going to stay that way for a good long while.

“You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want,” Peter assures Stiles, “We both left for our own reasons and I have a feeling that despite the similarities behind some of our motives, that there is something significant behind your desire to leave the past behind. I understand, sweetheart, really.”

Stiles believes him. He knows Peter’s past in Beacon Hills better than anyone. He’d spent the majority of his formative years in Peter’s presence. The man had always had an imperialistic personality, like he knew more, saw more, and understood more than most. Peter was well educated and sexy, alluring and imposing. He was attractive and dangerous. A not so safe mix for someone like Stiles who had always been drawn in by the man’s personality. He had only seen the softer side of Peter a couple times, and even then it was always veiled by sarcasm and wit. A tendency they both shared. Even now, watching Peter digest and process the information that Stiles didn’t even offer up, Peter simply read him like a book, was just as much terrifying as it was impressive. 

He had harbored a strong crush on Derek, that was no lie, everyone knew it. Stiles is certain that Derek himself knew, the wolf certainly could smell it. The two Hales were so similar. Sharing a name, personality traits, and darkness, were all crush material. Seeing Peter now, doing what he does best, sparks that long put out attraction. Stiles isn’t sure where it’s leading, he’s terrified to begin giving any amount of his heart and thoughts to another man, let alone a Hale. He knows he and Peter have a unique understanding. He knows that Peter gets the need to escape, the need to start over. He’s been wronged by Scott’s pack too.

“Are you still with Scott’s pack?” Stiles asks, taking his turn to interrogate.

“Sadly, yes.” Peter frowns deeply, “These pitiful excuses for pack bonds are the only things keeping me from going full omega, but just barely. I’ve been on my own for so long but this is all I can stand. I haven’t been able to. . .make quality attachments.”

Stiles knows the feeling. It took him months before he even agreed to be pack. It had taken months of non-stop pack time, reassurances and living with the pack. They had proved themselves time and time again before Stiles knew he could trust them. They took him in when he had nothing and Stiles owes them, though they deny his debts.

“I met Jake and the pack the first day I got off the bus.” Stiles tells him, “They took me in, gave me shelter and clothes, food and comfort.”

“You struck gold,” Peter nods understandingly, “I’ve always had money to fall back on as well as my career, but I never had a support system in the form of loved ones. I haven’t been in an actual pack in decades. You managed to find one right out the gate. I’m envious.”

“They’re pretty great,” Stiles chuckles, “They don’t know who I am, Peter. I never told them about my past or what happened. They never pushed me to tell them but now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t know what I’l be coming home to tonight.”

“For that, I apologize. You’ll have to forgive me for being shocked to have found you.” Peter says with a grin, “Though I’m absolutely happy I did. You look good, Stiles. Like you’re coming into your own.”

Stiles feels a blush surfacing. Dinner is a surprisingly easy affair. Stiles is shocked to experience a laid-back Peter, one that is easy to talk to and laughs. Peter’s  _ laugh _ . Stiles spent all summer getting to know his body and the bodies of many other men and he’s not ashamed to be appreciating Peter’s. Mostly his smile and temperament at the moment. Peter is pleasant company. Sardonic in wit and humor. He’s interesting and he’s happy to share about his line of work. Stiles is happy to say that Peter does most of the talking during dinner. Stiles eats his ziti and enjoys the tiramisu that Peter demands they order. Overall, it’s surprisingly pleasant. 

“Well, I better be getting home.” Stiles says, looking at his phone as he calls the Uber.

“I could drop you off. . .” Peter suggests.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t know what they’re all thinking and the last thing I want is to drag you into a shitty situation.” Stiles sighs, “I’ll be fine.”

“That, I have no doubt.” Peter smirks, “It was great catching up with you, Stiles. I hope we can do this again sometime soon.”

“Likewise,” Stiles says, still sort of unsure how to continue.

“Here’s my card, it’s got my personal number on it too if you ever need to get ahold of me.” Peter hands him a little white card, “Please feel free to call me, don’t worry. I won’t be telling anyone where you are.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Stiles nods, grateful at the gesture. A black town car pulls up and Stiles gets in. He looks back at the wolf outside the door. Peter gives a small wave goodbye as the car drives off with the human inside. 

Stiles thinks about what just happened. Peter was civil. Calm and collected. Unlike how he remembers the man back in Beacon Hills. He’s sure that Peter would say the same thing about him. Peter is different now, like a completely different person.  _ Maybe it was Scott. . .maybe it was just Beacon Hills making him so. . .guarded. _ Stiles speculates. Back home, Peter was so callous and just radiated all kinds of ‘no’ vibes. Stiles thinks that it’s because of everything that happened in their hometown. That it was just too much for him and it hardened the man beyond what anyone could fix. Leaving for Peter had helped ease all that pain just enough to give himself a new life. He could be anything,  _ anyone _ here. In Beacon, he was doomed to be the murderer, the trickster, someone no one could trust. He had been branded by that town in different ways. Stiles knew better than anyone what that town had to power to do.

He could see the lights on in the house. It wasn’t late, not even past 8:30 but he knew everyone was going to be gathered in the living room, waiting for his arrival. Stiles knew they would want to know what happened, demand to know why he would go off with a strange wolf, who Stiles is. He had a lot to answer to now. Walking in the door, Stiles didn’t know what to expect so he expected the worst. His expression is hard and unemotional. His eyes are guarded and cold. When he sees his pack all sitting around the TV, passing the time by watching reruns of  _ Dexter _ on their shared Netflix account, he’s met with everyone’s head turning to greet him. Identical frowns on all of their faces. He feels like he’s being accused like he’s being judged, though he thinks he knows his pack wouldn’t do that. His old pack would, but this new one?

“ _ Stiles,” _ Jake’s voice is harsh. Harsher than Stiles has ever heard before. At least, directed at him, “You’re home.”

“Jake-”

“We just want the truth, Mitch- Stiles- whoever you are.” Jake stands, walks to his beta and gives him a firm, Alpha stare. He feels cornered and small. His first instinct is to rebel, to challenge the Alpha. He wants to rage against Jake for even thinking about trying to be harsh with him. 

“Both are me. I’m still me.” Stiles says slowly, “Use either.”

“Who are you, Stiles?” Jake asks, “Who was the wolf you just. . .went off with, leaving your pack mate on his own? That you ignored all my texts and everyone’s cautions.” Jake looks angry again, growing more and more furious.

“The wolf’s name is Peter.” Stiles tells them, “He’s a member of my old pack.”

“And you thought it would be a good idea to just. . .go off with him?” Eric demands.

“Peter isn’t dangerous, at least, not to me.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “He moved away from the pack and it’s not like he’s really intimately connected with the McCall pack.”

“You went without backup. You ignored everyone’s texts, our calls, we couldn’t get ahold of you.” Jake thunders, “Do you have any idea how worried we were for you?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Stiles says honestly. “However, It wasn’t like I was doing anything dangerous or wrong. You’re my Alpha, not my warden and I needed to speak with Peter.”

“You’re right, I’m not your warden.” Jake says, “I am your Alpha. You’re part of  _ my _ pack and I just realized that we don’t know anything about you.”

“You didn’t know anything about me when we first met and it didn’t bother you then,” Stiles argues, “Why should it matter now?” 

“It matters now because someone from your old pack found you and we need to be prepared for the backlash!” Jake shouts, “You think that your past Alpha is just going to let you go? No Alpha lets their beta go without a fight. Betas are like limbs, you lose one and you’re not complete. I have eleven that I need to look out for.”

Stiles nods, understanding completely.  _ Eleven.  _ Stiles had thought he’d be the twelfth. That he’d been a part of this pack. Almost immediately, Jake realizes his mistake. He sees Stiles close up entirely and feels ice gripping his heart. The embers that had started to light once more in the man’s eyes, now Jake could see them glowing dimmer and dimmer. He takes a deep breath and calms the anger and possessiveness, the need to protect that had clouded his mind. Jake swore he wouldn’t be like Stiles’ previous Alpha a long time ago.

“We took you in because we could see how special you are,” Jake chooses his words carefully, “We still see it, even more now after you’ve become one of us. Whoever you are, we just want to know the  _ real _ you. We don’t care who that is.”

Stiles is still reeling and all he wants to do is run away right that instant. Jake could see him gearing up to run and he’ll be damned if he lets Stiles go off alone. Now when they could lose him. Jace senses the tension and can see Stiles’ brain calculating just how he can escape. He loves Stiles, hell, he’s wrapped in Stiles’ blanket because he was so worried that nothing but his friend’s scent could calm him. The youngest pack member stands and carefully makes his way over to his friend so as not to spook him. Then, in an instant, Stiles is wrapped in the boy’s arms. The human wants to shrink away, but the wolf’s arms around him refuse to let him go. His brain wants to process this as a danger but his heart knows better.

“Don’t run,” Jace whispers to his friend, “You  _ are _ one of us. You have always been one of us and always will be. Jake is just hopped up on that Alpha juice because he’s worried about you. So don’t even think for a minute that we’d let you walk out that door thinking that we don’t love you just as much as anyone else in this pack.”

“Please just sit and talk to us, tell us what you can,” Eric urges, “You know that we wouldn’t ever judge you or hate you for anything that happened in your past. We’re a clean slate, have always been.”

Jace tugs Stiles over into the circle and the boys clear a spot on the couch for the both of them. Stiles wants to rage. He wants to fight but after all this time and having a ghost from his past suddenly appearing. . .he’s exhausted. He’s tired of bearing his burden alone, perhaps opening up and sharing some of it. . .just a little wouldn’t be so hard. 

_ First lesson, Stiles.  _ He thinks to himself. Be careful what you wish for.

“Let’s just. . .start with the easy stuff.” Jace says, “Who is Peter?”

“Peter is. . .an old pack member. I guess. Not that it was much of a pack to begin with. We were a bunch of teenagers when everything went down.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly, “Peter sort of, got me into the whole supernatural world. He was. . .look, I’ll be honest, I don’t know how much I can share about someone else’s story.”

The wolves nod in understanding. They know just how loyal Stiles is and they aren’t willing to poke at his boundaries. Especially not the ones that they themselves value.

“That’s alright, just tell us what you can.” Tim gives a small smile. Stiles thinks for a minute about how he can share this. 

“Peter and I have many. . .similarities.” Stiles thinks, “We were both. . .out of control once. Both of us lost our minds to something dark and twisted. We hurt a lot of people. I. . .It’s still really hard to talk about.”

With each word, he found it harder and harder to staunch the flow of his thoughts. He couldn't keep himself from sharing even if he wanted to. 

“Peter and I shared a lot of time together. We’d both been taken by the big bad of the year. Everyone in town had forgotten who we were, we essentially never existed for the better part of an entire year. We were lost together.” Stiles remembers being so alone. He hadn’t found Peter right away, he’s not even sure he how long he had been wandering before he even found Peter. He just remembers being relieved. He had been sarcastic and a little cranky but at the time, who could blame him? He knew that when Peter left him, volunteered to sacrifice himself, he’d been terrified. He’d spent so much time with Peter, surviving with him that seeing him ride away to a fate that no one knew for certain, he was sad to see him go. Then as he waited for Peter, he had been so lonely and afraid. He hadn’t been willing to admit it at the time, and Scott had criticized his need to talk to Peter after the fact because he believed Peter to still be the unstable, self-centered megalomaniac he once had been. Stiles didn’t see him like that but Scott had made him feel like cutting ties with Peter was a good thing. They emailed occasionally but Peter never tried to keep in contact. Stiles wonders why now, all of a sudden, does Peter want to interact once more.

“He’s still on the outskirts of the McCall pack, they tolerate him from a distance but haven’t really had any interest in actually treating him like pack.” Stiles groans, “They’ve left him on his own because it’s easier to just let him go rather than deal with all the emotional damage they’ve done to him. It’s exactly what they did to me and I just. . .I let them do it to him. I’m no better than they were.”

Stiles feels a deep sorrow come over him like a black cloud. He had stood by while Peter was pushed away and forgotten. Even he had forgotten about Peter after a while. It’s no excuse that Peter stopped replying to emails.  _ I should have tried harder _ . Stiles thinks harshly to himself. He’s no better than Scott. He’s no better than his own daughter that would be happy to have nothing to do with him. Peter’s own family abandoned him time and time again. Just as Stiles’ father had. He knows that pain. He contributed to Peter’s pain, albeit inadvertently, but still. Stiles begins to lose himself in a shame spiral. A terrible scent wafts off of him and everyone in the pack scrunches their nose at the scent of self-loathing.

“Stiles, it’s not your fault,” Jace whines, “You’re nothing like them. Communication goes both ways and he could have tried talking to you.”

“Your past is your past,” Eric says, “Peter is a part of it and if he’s important to you, then we won’t stop you from seeking him out.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “Maybe we’ll get to know Peter too, if you trust him, then we can trust him too.”

“Peter was thrown out just like me,” Stiles whispers to himself. Though everyone could hear the sadness in his voice, they knew that Stiles was grieving still.

“It might help to talk about what happened?” Jace suggests, “We’ve all got pretty tragic backstories, what’s one more? We can help you carry it.”

“We all shoulder each other’s burdens, that’s what a pack is,” Jake says, “We don’t know your past, but we want to.”

“It’s dark.” Stiles says, “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Who you were then, isn’t who you are now.” Jace whispers, “Please talk to us.” Stiles sighs, he sees Jace’s imploring eyes, begging him to help ease his pain. Ease his struggle and let them carry part of his cross. Just like Stiles helps to carry theirs. 

“My best friend was bitten in high school,” Stiles starts out, hesitant. He knows that once he gets started, he won’t stop. But this is a safe space. He knows it is. “I had. . .I wanted to see a dead body that was found in the woods in our town. My father is the Sheriff and I thought I could get away with it. So we snuck out and he got bit. It was my fault we were roped into this life. Peter had bitten him.”

“Peter’s an Alpha?” Jake asks with wide eyes. 

“Briefly. He was sick. . .not in control of himself. He’d been abandoned a long time ago and it wasn’t even his fault.” Stiles says emphatically, “He wasn’t sane. After that, he wasn’t ever really the same. Scott always blamed me for taking him out that night. There was a while where he was good, he stopped blaming me. He’d fallen in love and. . .Allison was great. She was beautiful and smart. Athletic. . . a hunter. They were like Romeo and Julliete. Up until she died. . .they’d been off and on but she always loved him.” Stiles feels the hot pricks of tears in his eyes. The hot sting of regret and pounding hate.

“Amid all the shit that happened, all the things we fought, one of the worst, probably the evilest thing we ever fought . . .was me.” Stiles’ voice cracks with emotion and the pack closes rank around him, fearing the worst of what he has to say. “I was possessed by a dark spirit. A demon that killed. . .I killed a lot of people. It used me like a damn meat suit to just. . .carry out its business. A lot of people lost their lives. Both directly and indirectly by me. I killed a handful of deputies, dozens of people at the hospital and. . .I killed Allison.”

“You were possessed, Stiles. It wasn’t you.” Stiles laughs bitterly at Jace’s statement. He’d heard it before. Countless times but knew it was only half-true. It hadn’t been him in control, but it had been him physically. It was his body, he was the instrument. 

“I don’t. . .I don’t like talking about it.” Stiles begins to shake just a little bit. The memories of the trauma extract feelings that Stiles hates. He remembers being weak, in pain all the time, and just helpless. They’re feeling that he just doesn’t ever want to experience again. 

“Okay,” Jake concedes, scenting the panic wafting off of Stiles. They choose to back off the subject in favor of getting the whole rather than the portion of Stiles’ life.

“Why did you leave your pack?” Jace asks gently.

“It was a lot of things,” Stiles struggles with remembering his father. He doesn’t want to think of the man as he was that day. A raging alcoholic. But he can’t remember much else, “My dad kicked me out. He was drunk as usual and he told me to leave. Derek didn’t want me coming and whining to him anymore so he told me to leave. Scott stopped trying to hear my issues. I was on my own. So I left. I was done with that town. I just wanted out.”

They’re silent, they know that there’s more to the story, they can see it in Stiles’ face. Though just hearing the gist, the summary of it, they feel sick. The depth of his emotions was a hard knock to the stomach for them. So they closed ranks and surrounded him, refusing to let Stiles go. The human felt the emotions so powerfully, he felt their devotion to him, their love. The strong pack bonds reverberated in his chest, filling him with warmth in an attempt to fight off the cold he was feeling.  _ They love me. They won’t let me go _ . Stiles thinks. He becomes aware of the water falling from his eyes at that moment. He’d been reassured by the pack and they rejuvenated their bonds to each other. Stiles had never felt something so strongly. 

“My name is  Mieczysław Stilinski but I haven’t gone by that name since my mother died,” Stiles whimpers. He feels a hot prick of shame for only a moment before emotion slams back into him again: acceptance. “My name is Stiles. I didn’t want to be him anymore but, I-I think I want to be Stiles again.”

Jace wipes his tears away with gentle hands and holds him through the tears. The wolves all put a supportive hand on their human in order to say that he  _ is _ one of them. They  _ are _ his family. They  _ always  _ will be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's no secret that I pissed some people off. First off, I want to thank all of you who gave me so many words of encouragement and support. You guys really redeemed the situation. I knew people might be a little upset that I changed the pairing but I didn't think it would be so severe. Again, I really apologize to those who were upset by this, I truly was not trying to bait anyone. If you look at all my other stories, I write all Sterek. I love the pairing and have never been one to bait. I really try to stick to a pairing but I felt like the story was going somewhere else and I thought that it was a good time and place to experiment with another direction.   
> Secondly, I am so happy to all the Sterek people who are sticking with the pairing now that it's changed, and to all the Steter fans: WELCOME! I'm so thrilled to see so many of you commenting. I hope you like this story.   
> Thirdly, I spent some time really thinking about this and I know you guys come here to read not to know the author's issues but what the hell, I'm gonna share anyway. After some of the stuff on the last chapter, I've decided to explore Steter more. I'll admit that I've never really gotten hate for stuff I've written so reading some of the comments was like being dunked in an ice bath. (I'm still developing a thick skin to criticism) It's been good to really experience it because I want to become a stronger writer but for now, I think I'll just lick my wounds a bit and develop more in another pairing. Writing and knitting have literally been my stress relievers and I think it'll be best to just relax in another pairing for a bit. I also really love Steter and have so many fic ideas that I want to be a presence in that pairing now so I'm super stoked!  
> Lastly, I know I went through the comments right after I posted the last chapter to say thank you for both praise and criticism, if I didn't comment on your post it's because I stayed away from my account to just unwind for a couple days. I was so shocked to see all the support when I got back in today! I couldn't say how grateful I am to all of you, you guys are the best and I'm honored to write for you.   
> Please keep letting me know what you guys think! I love you guys and. . .well I just have no words to describe how happy you've made me.


	8. Operant

“Hey, Jordan.” Stiles sighs into the receiver. He'd struggled with the decision to call the man, still unsure about getting in contact with anyone from his hometown, but Jordan had won him over with a lengthy and apologetic email that even Stiles could tell was entirely sincere.

_ “Stiles,”  _ The hellhound sounds optimistic,  _ “It’s been a long time. I’m glad you took my call. After everything happened, I wasn’t sure I’d be hearing from you.” _

“Your email tipped the scales in your favor,” Stiles admits. He’s looking at the email right now, eyes still lingering over Jordan’s earnest apology and the insistence that he call him when he could. The explanation that he had been the one to discover his absence, how he ripped Derek a new one, how he had discovered his father’s drinking and done something about it and how he’d been the one to give Stiles the references he’d needed to get his internship.

_ “I’m still really sorry about everything that went down.”  _ Jordan sounds genuinely distraught over it and Stiles nods in understanding.

“What’s been happening in Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks with little affection in his voice, wanting to change the subject from what happened.

_ “Well. . .could be better,”  _ Jordan’s voice goes up a couple octaves,  _ “I assume your father hasn’t tried contacting you?” _

“No,” Stiles answers bitterly. The man had been stubborn for all of Stiles’ life and now with his son in the wind, he hadn’t changed. It wasn’t a shock to Stiles at all.

_ “Well, I wouldn’t take it personally.”  _ Jordan answers just as bitterly,  _ “He’s an alcoholic. I should have called him on it sooner, maybe then he wouldn’t have gotten so deep into it.” _

“It’s not your fault, Jordan. If I couldn’t get him to put down the bottle then I doubt you would have been able to.” Stiles tries to keep the anger from his voice but it doesn’t work. The bite of his words are tinged with white-hot anger.

_ “He’s not hit rock bottom yet, Stiles. I hate to watch it happen to him but. . .he’s got to hit it before he can go back up.”  _ Jordan sounds distraught,  _ “He’s been removed from office and from what I’ve seen, he’s basically only leaving his house to get food and drinks.” _

“Thank you for trying, Jordan.” Stiles sighs tiredly, “And thank you for keeping an eye on him.”

_ “He never told me what really happened between you two. I think that if he’s being honest, he doesn’t remember what he said to you.”  _ Jordan tells him with a dry tone,  _ “He’s just not ready yet.” _

“Yeah well, I’m not going to be going back after everything. I love my dad and I want to remember what he was like when he wasn’t drinking but it’s been so long.” Stiles tells him, “Until he’s sober, I’m not going to reach out to him. I spent my childhood taking care of him and now I think it’s time to take care of myself.”

_ “You shouldn’t have had to do that for him, he’s the parent. His job was to take care of you and lord knows you’ve earned your space.”  _ Jordan agrees,  _ “Just focus on yourself, building your life where you are and getting through school. Congratulations by the way on your internship. We’re all proud of you here at the station.” _

“Thanks, man.” Stiles allows a small smile, “I appreciate you giving me that reference. Now that you’re acting Sheriff. . .how is that?”

_ “It’s. . .a tough job. It’s rough being so understaffed all the time but it’s good. It’s a great job and the town is great. We haven’t had any big threats rolling through town lately and we’re managing to clean things up.” _  Jordan tells him,  _ “I don’t know how your dad let himself slip. This job is grueling and I can’t take my eyes off it for very long. I’m sorry to say that he let the town down.” _

“He let a lot of things down.” Stiles says bitterly, “How’s the pack?”

_ “They’re not taking my calls. Derek’s stopped answering the door, too. The last time I saw him was maybe a couple weeks ago and he was pissed.”  _ Jordan groans,  _ “I think the lack of your bond is driving him a little crazy. I’m not sure if he really realized what kind of an impact you pulled in his life. He’s only started to really touch on it and Scott. . .Scott’s only fanning the flames and escalating the situation. He’s still adjusting to the loss of you.” _

“Are they dangerous?” Stiles asks worriedly.

_ “No, I don’t think so. At least, they’re not dangerous to the town. . .they’re more of a danger to themselves.”  _ Jordan thinks out loud. Stiles feels a little anxious about that. Scott’s never been too bright when it comes to pack matters. The wolf had just barely begun learning what pack means and he’s just lost his first beta. Stiles isn’t sure what that’ll do to him, “ _ Either way, I think it’s best if you just keep out of their sights until they cool off. They’re still a little high strung and I don’t want you or your new pack caught in the crosshairs.” _

“I agree,” Jace pokes his head in at that moment with expectant eyes and Stiles waves him off, “Alright, thanks, man. I gotta go, the guys are taking me Christmas tree shopping.” Stiles laughs.

_ “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon, Stiles. Have fun.”  _ Jordan sounds like he’s smiling and Stiles hangs up knowing that he’ll be able to call the man again soon.

He throws on his thick coat, knowing it’s going to be terribly cold out. It’s only the first few days of December, they’ve just gotten out on break. Stiles couldn’t be happier to just have work on his plate. The pack has been extra clingy lately, wanting nothing more than to spend the holidays with their family. Stiles being a part of that family meant that he has to go on these family outings. Not that he really minds, Stiles loves Christmas and this is the first time he’ll be celebrating in a long time. It’s also the first Christmas in a long time where he won’t be alone. Stiles wraps his scarf around his neck and joins the guys outside. They pile into their cars and make their way to the nearest Home Depot.

“I’m so excited,” Jace leaps out of the car upon arrival and begins bouncing on his feet.

“We’ll have to do something fun tonight, huh?” Stiles thinks, “How about we get the fire pit in the backyard going and we roast marshmallows tonight?”

“That sounds awesome!” Jace grins from ear to ear. The boy’s eyes are bright and Stiles thinks that this is the most optimistic, happy, and adorable kid ever, “We gotta have hot cider too.”

“Obviously,” Jake laughs, “Okay, I like the Douglas firs. . .”

To be honest, Stiles doesn’t care what tree they get. He’s just happy to be there. He laughs when Eric starts dancing with a tree that he found. He rolls his eyes when Jace runs around pointing at everything. He loves when Jake gets a worker to take a picture of them all together in front of the bunches of trees. Stiles ends up picking out the best tree and Jake is all for buying it. The wolves have no problem getting it over to the tree trimmer and then to the car after purchasing it.

Stiles can’t remember the last time he’d felt so warm and cozy before. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt like he belonged. They got the tree to the house and got it in the stand in the corner of the living room. Jake helped get all the tree decorating things out and they began working on the lights. Stiles made hot chocolate and they put on Christmas music.

“It’s December and this is the only month we’re allowed to play Christmas music. The moment it turns January first, no more Christmas music until December first.” Tim threatens everyone with a candy cane. Stiles couldn’t agree more. When the tree is just about finished, the pack of twelve stand in front of the tree admiring their handiwork. Then Jake hands Stiles a little plugin star tree topper.

“It’s a tradition that the newest member of the pack put the star on the tree,” Jake smiles, “You’re it. We’re so happy you’re here with us Stiles, we love you. Merry Christmas.”

Stiles grins at his Alpha and takes the star, “I love you guys too.” He puts the star on top and plugs it in, completing their masterpiece. They all clap and cheer for the completing of their little tradition.

“Okay, let's get the backyard put together so we can do that bonfire tonight.” Jake claps his hands, setting his betas to work.

It’s about five in the evening and they’re all starved. Like the papa bear Stiles is, he sets about going to the store to get what they need and picking up dinner. Before the next hour is up, they’re all sitting around a bonfire with slices of their favorite pizzas. Jace had tried to go straight for the marshmallows but Stiles slapped his hand away and firmly insisted the wolf eat dinner first. The youngest pack member had been upset at first but quickly gave up the fight when his Alpha seconded the sentiment.

Stiles hadn’t experienced this kind of warmth in a long time. As he sits with his feet up on the edges of the fire pit, wearing his favorite SDSU sweater and a pair of Jake’s joggers, sharing a bench with his favorite pack puppy and roasting marshmallows while everyone goes around sharing their best impressions. It’s another night of laughter and closeness. Pack bonding nights are Stiles’ favorite nights. He’s got a ten page paper on the psychology of fugitives on the run from the law due in three days and Stiles hasn’t even started it yet, but he couldn’t be bothered with that at the moment. He’s busy making memories.

. . .

 

“Noah!” Jordan Parrish calls from the doorway to a dark and cold house. He’s still in his uniform, fresh off two doubles and he’s supposed to be going home but he had a feeling that tonight, he should check on the former sheriff. Not to mention the frantic text from Lydia stating that someone needed to check on him. He’d long since made himself a key to their house. After Stiles had left, he thought it would be a good idea to keep a spare in case of emergencies if he ever needed to check on his former mentor and friend. Just because Noah had stopped caring about himself and his friendships, Jordan would be damned if he let Noah sink farther without a safety net, it may be foolish but Jordan still believed that there is hope for Noah. That the man is just lost in his addiction and that the underlying issues are eating away at him.

“Noah, I’m just here to check on you,” Jordan announced in the hallway, “No one’s seen you around and I started to get worried.”

It’s completely silent. The house feels so sterile and cold. It’s so lifeless. When Stiles was here, the house was warm and it smelled good. Stiles had loved those little Glade air fresheners and it always smelled like the season. It’s almost Christmas and usually, the scent of apple cinnamon would fill the house, but with Stiles gone it’s scentless. There’s no warmth and no love here in this place. It’s just void. Stiles had worked so hard to keep a home. To at least give himself and his father a sense of family, of happiness. There is none of that now. It’s clean everywhere except for the kitchen, which is covered in wrappers from snacks, boxes from TV dinners, and empty bottles of liquor. He listens closely then hears the man’s heart, somewhere in the house, beating too fast.

The man’s breathing is labored and then there’s a loud crash. Without thinking twice, Jordan rushes up the stairs to the elder Stilinski’s bedroom. Jordan doesn’t stop at the door. He sees the former sheriff clutching a bottle like a lifeline in one hand and his handgun in the other. The man is disheveled and smells strongly of the drink and powerful sorrow. The tang of panic swirls around the room and Jordan doesn’t think before rushing his friend and prying the gun from the man’s hands.

Jordan doesn’t know what he was expecting. If he thought Noah would put up a fight over the gun or if he would drop it like a hot pocket. He doesn’t know. It’s somewhere in the middle, however. Noah stares at Jordan with wide, bloodshot eyes and Jordan suddenly feels slammed with emotions that are not his own and he thinks that the broken man in front of him has seen too much. Noah clutches the gun for only a moment before giving it over to Jordan, in the next moment, tears are falling from the man’s eyes and he’s clutching at his head.

“Noah,” Jordan calls his name, hoping to free the man from turmoil, “You’re having a panic attack.” Parrish puts a name to the man’s affliction and suddenly the floodgates open. With a mighty cry, Noah throws the bottle with as much hate as he can muster at the wall. The glass shatters and the room is sprayed with bourbon. He continues to sob and Jordan holds the man tightly through it.

The interaction happens so quickly. It’s over and done in minutes. Jordan wonders how long his friend had been contemplating taking his own life. If Noah had tried before and he’d just been somewhere else, hadn’t been around to stop it. He wonders if he hadn’t been there tonight if the former sheriff would have actually gone through with it. Then Parrish thinks about Lydia texting him, about his own feelings, and then he realizes the answer to his question. His heart is gripped tight in cold fingers. His heart is beating so fast, almost as quickly as Noah’s. He’d just come far too close to losing his friend. He’s becoming blatantly aware of just how neglectful the pack has been. It wasn’t Stiles’ job to identify the issues in his father that escalated the drinking, it wasn’t on Stiles to diagnose his father. The pack had left the two Stilinskis on their own for too long and the wound had gotten infected.

“I fucked up,” Noah sobbed, “I fucked up, it’s fucked up, I’m fucking-fuck!” the man screams. He screams for what he’s lost, for all the pain that he’s been suppressing for so long. The emotions make Jordan’s head spin and he feels sick with the intensity but he’s not letting go any time soon.

“You’re okay,” Jordan says gruffly, struggling to keep his own emotions in check, “ _ Fuck _ , Noah. You’re going to be okay.”

Noah doesn’t say anything again, only cries and screams for something Jordan doesn’t know about yet. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting on the floor of the room with Noah, holding the man in an iron grip through his panic before he finally passes out. Jordan knows that it’s going to be a long road for Noah but that the man is at rock bottom. There’s only one way to go from there. He gets Noah into his bed and proceeds to clean the man’s mess with a heavy heart. He rolls his sleeves and gets to work. It’s time he intervenes.

It doesn’t take long to get rid of all the alcohol in the house and it doesn’t take long to clean the messes around the house. It takes him hours to locate a decent rehab center. One that he knows is specifically for veterans. One where Noah can share his experiences from the army as well as his experiences in Beacon Hills. The therapy programs look promising and Jordan works out all the details. Tomorrow, when the sheriff is sober again, he’ll begin talking to him and try to give the man the intervention that he’s gone far too long without.

_ There will be change. He won’t go through this alone anymore. _  Jordan thinks to himself.

. . .

 

It’s nearly Christmas. Just two weeks away and Stiles is sitting in a cold courtroom with a weepy nose. He’s been sick for the last week and feeling sicker for the past two weeks. Jace had a final for another class so he chose to skip and Stiles had assured him that he’d be fine. He’s currently regretting that statement as he sits in the bench, sneezing, coughing, and just feeling like shit. He’s tired, feels weak and his chest hurts. He has a headache, which isn’t being helped by all the coughing and sneezing. He must look weepy because no one is sitting next to him, but he thinks that’s for the best. He’s managed to keep his cough controlled by an ungodly amount of Cepocol he’s got in his mouth and the handkerchief he has in his pocket is effectively drenched with bright green snot. It’s not a pretty picture and the guys all tried to get him to take it easy, but Stiles outright refused saying that he’s fine, it’s just a cold.

_ I have to get all these court hours done. I need to be here,  _ Stiles thinks to himself, mentally urging himself on. The cough drops in his bag can’t be the only ones giving him a pep talk. So he sits there and waits for court to start for the day. People are just now filing in, the defense saunters over to their bench and the defendant is brought out, it’s early and they’re going over notes from the last session. Then Peter and his team walk in and Siles hasn’t seen the man in a while. It’s been a couple weeks since the last time Stiles had sat in on one of Peter's cases and he’s happy to see the man again. Despiting feeling as awful as he does, he's eager to see how Peter has been.

Peter walks in, he’s had a good morning so far. He’d gotten to sleep in, the housekeeper had come the night before so his apartment still smelled clean, his assistant had gotten his suit dry cleaned and everything was falling into place with his case. He even got to take his time with breakfast. It was pleasant, to say the least. He even looked forward to seeing Stiles again, knowing that the boy was going to be there gave him an added confidence boost. It was good to see the man again, given everything that happened, he looked forward to seeing him. Then he’d come to court and the moment when he walked into the room, got one whiff of Stiles’ sickly scent and cringed. Stiles smelled awful and looked even worse. Peter’s shocked that the man isn’t at the doctor’s or on some type of medication.

“Stiles. . .” Peter approaches the man with wide eyes, “You’re not well.”

“Yeah no shit,” Stiles rolls his eyes. He’s terribly congested and though Stiles wants there to be some bite to his words, he sounds silly with a nose all stuffed up, “I had no idea.”

“Have you seen a doctor?” Peter asks, skipping past Stiles’ sarcasm.

“It’s just a cold. I’m a little under the weather, it’ll be fine.” Stiles tells him, “I’m fine.”

“I very much doubt that you’re fine, Stiles. Your scent gives away a lot more than just a  _ cold. _ ” Peter rolls his eyes, “Didn’t you get the flu shot?”

“No, Peter. I didn’t because I don’t need it.” Stiles sighs, “Look, I’m fine, okay?”

“Stiles,” Peter wants to keep pushing and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s being called over by his team, he’d lecture the man on taking better care of himself but for now, he has to go to work. “We’re not done talking. If you’ll let me, I’d like to take you to get some soup after court today so I can lecture you.”

“Whatever, Mr. Hale.” Stiles rolls his eyes. He wants nothing more than to go home after court lets out today, but hot soup sounds too good to pass up, just like another evening with Peter sounds too good to refuse.

Court proceeds much like the last session. There’s lots of evidence, there’s lots of arguing and then there’s lunch. Stiles sat through a full days session for two other cases and he just needs one more to finish his assignment. It’s the last day he’ll ever need to sit in court for the graduation requirement. That is what gets him through the day. Stiles goes for coffee and comes back to his seat, cradling the hot liquid and savoring the feeling of it running down his abused esophagus. Peter keeps monitoring Stiles and throughout the day, glances at him. Peter knows that Stiles isn’t well and he’s hoping to convince him to go to the doctor.

The case is another murder trial and is arguably more gruesome than the first one. The man in question is aggressive and killed his wife in a domestic dispute. It’s the last day and today is the last day. Jury decides today. It’s an important day and Stiles has never been here for it. The jury was in at lunch and they’re all sitting around for another couple hours for their decision. When they come back in, Stiles holds his breath. He knows that this guy is guilty, there’s no question and the jury was only in for a couple hours deliberating. He’s confident that Peter has won his case.

“On one count of second-degree murder, how do you find?” The judge asks the juror.

“We find the defendant, James Landon, guilty.” The lady holding the card says. There’s a moment of silence before the defendant rises to his feet and starts screaming at the judge and then all hell breaks loose. Landon tries to escape the room and pushes past his attorney roughly before turning to run. Stiles has a brief thought of  _ Where is he going to go? How far does he think he’s going to get? _  Before being shoved roughly because he couldn’t move out of the way fast enough. Landon practically barrels through him, sending him to the floor. Stiles had already been tired and weak, ill all day long and being handled roughly didn’t help. Stiles wanted to stay on the floor, he wanted to just fall asleep and he came close to it. He feels pain bloom in his side at the rough landing on the floor. He heard the judge banging her gavel and the bailiffs shouting, warning him that they’re going to taze him. Landon doesn’t listen, however, and as everyone else in the room ducks to avoid the man’s fury, one of the officers pulls the trigger on his taser and the sound of electricity resounds through the panic and Landon makes a horrifies squeak before face planting.

Stiles is still on the ground, processing what happened. He starts coughing and his lungs cry out for help. Then he feels a pair of arms around him and Peter is there, picking him up off the ground and holding him tightly. Stiles’ head lolls from side to side and he doesn’t think he has the energy to actually think at the moment. It’s slowly coming back to him and the shock is slow to recede.

“Stiles,” Peter breathes, “Are you alright?”

He only groans in response and Peter feels the urgency to take the man to the hospital to get checked. He saw Stiles hit the ground far too hard. The wolf wasn’t in the mood to hang around the courthouse. When the judge dismissed everyone soon after, Peter asked one of his partners to take everything back to their office and he grabbed his coat. He wrapped it around Stiles, who was running a fever and hauled the man out of the building. Stiles didn’t protest. He didn’t wonder where he was going, or why Peter was taking him. He remained silent and just relaxed into the wolf’s strong arms. Peter called his driver around the front of the building as they rode the elevator down.

“Nearest Urgent Care please.” He told his driver. Peter eased Stiles into the back seat and kept an arm around him the entire ride. Stiles couldn’t help but relax against Peter’s shoulder. He’s tired.

It didn’t take long for Peter to get Stiles in to see the doctor. Stiles was so out of it and barely making sense by the time they got in. It was all a haze for the sick human and just gave in to the doctor’s poking and prodding, there was little fight in the man. Peter paces around the room, attending to Stiles when the human reached out for him. They’re waiting for the tests to come back.

“Peter?” Stiles asks. He sounds miserable and Peter knows that the human probably feels miserable, “Why are you here?”

“What?” Peter asks confused.  _ Sure, now he becomes aware. _

“Why did you bring me here?” Stiles asks, “We’re only just reconnected and it’s not like we were good friends before. Hell, you stopped talking to me a long time ago. Why do you care all of a sudden.” He thinks for a moment that maybe he should be cautious with these types of questions. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

“I’ve always cared about you,” Peter admits, “We can’t go through months of solitary confinement together, escape from several prisons, and not share commonalities or not like each other in some way. You know I’ve always been fond of you.”

“It didn’t feel like that.” Stiles points out, “You just stopped replying to my emails.”

“I did.” Peter agrees, “But not for the reason you think.”

“Then why?” Stiles wonders. Peter looks at the man in front of him, suddenly aware of what his own absence has done to Stiles. The boy lost everyone and Peter was just another person the boy had lost. He brings his chair closer to Stiles and begins to unravel the secrets he’s been holding for years.

“When I was done with the wild hunt, Scott was good for a while. He was put together and I thought that he wouldn’t be so. . .terrible at being an Alpha. It was the first time the boy had shown promise.” Peter nodded, thinking about all that had transpired, “He’d fully accepted me into the pack, but with everything going on, I wasn’t more than a nuisance. Of course, I never wanted to stay in Beacon Hills. There was far too much pain in that town, it only held death and destruction. I wanted more than that. Though, I still needed a pack. Scott was all too happy when I told him I was returning to my life here in San Diego. So he let me return and was happy to forget his beta. We had always been so scattered as a pack, the McCall pack was spread out and though all of you had been friends, friendships are hard to maintain with distance and McCall felt no need to maintain with me. So the bond is still there. . .just thin and strained. I'm happy that the bond we share is strong enough to keep me from becoming an Omega and right now, that's all that I could ask for. I’d always been held at arms distance so it was no different.”

“Scott didn’t try to keep in contact with you?” Stiles asks sadly.

“No,” Peter shakes his head, “You were the only one who wanted to. Malia was always fine on her own, far more independent than anyone else and that was fine. I never had a relationship with her and estrangement is only natural. I tried to give her things but she never wanted them. That was fine with me. You. . .you were different. You wanted to know me, you  _ wanted _  to keep me. Perhaps because you and I are far more similar than anyone knew, or maybe because we were both being pushed to the outskirts of the pack and sought each other out as comfort. I’m not sure. I would need several hours to really list all the reasons why I wanted to keep you in my life.”

“Then why did you stop answering my calls? Or returning my emails?” Stiles questions weakly. Stiles' large brown doe eyes manage to stir  _something_ inside Peter. He's not sure what it is but it's old and hasn't been alight in a long time.

“You had been talking to Scott about me too much, I suppose is what happened. Scott never liked me. Of course, he found me useful at times but was never one to show me any type of affection.” Peter explains with a frown, “He feared me and never believed that I could have changed. So he ordered me to stop all contact. He believed I was bad for you so he ordered me never to contact you.”

Stiles needs a minute to process that bomb. Peter was forced to restrict contact. He couldn’t reach out to Stiles, that’s why Peter had stopped talking to him all those years ago. It seems so long ago now. Stiles had let it fade into the background, had forgotten about Peter when things in his own life began to fall apart, Peter hadn’t been a source of comfort. Though he always felt that missing link, he had never put a name to it and here Peter was, suffering for it. Stiles had forgotten about Peter again and it was always to Peter’s detriment. All that time alone and had Peter needed help of any kind, he wouldn't have been able to go to Stiles and ask for help. Stiles felt tears welling up in his eyes and he took Peter’s hand. The feeling of anger and resentment towards himself and Scott, he couldn’t believe his former Alpha’s audacity.  _ It’s abuse _ , Stiles thinks.

“I’m so sorry Peter.” Stiles whispers in a hoarse voice, “I’m so fucking sorry that I forgot about you, that I let you fade from my memory.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Stiles. Don’t ever blame yourself.” Peter is overcome with emotion again and somewhere, the deepest recesses of his mind are scolding him for showing this much emotion, for feeling Stiles’ pain. He rises from his seat and takes Stiles into his arms. Stiles feels so wretched and being warm in this wolfs arms feels so different. It feels real and it feels good. He feels Peter’s affection and forgiveness. It feels like redemption.

“It wasn’t your fault, Stiles. You tried. You kept trying and it’s understandable that you gave up after receiving nothing on my end. You were dealing with your own problems and Scott wasn’t helping you either.” Peter runs a gentle hand through his hair and caresses him, “You didn’t forsake me, Stiles. You came back and you found me again.”

They sit like that for a few more minutes and when the doctor walks back in with a clipboard and a concerned look on his face, Peter knows that Stiles is sick with more than just a cold.

“Well, Mr. Stilinski, you’ve got pneumonia.” The doctor sits down at his computer and begins typing, “I’m going to make you a prescription for you and if you start taking the pills today, you’ll be back to normal in no time. You’ll need to take it easy for a couple days, of course, lots of fluids and rest.”

“Thank you,” Stiles murmurs. He doesn’t feel well at all. He’s glad that the doctor is able to help him and after giving the man a little more information, it’s determined that he can leave. They're short with him and busy with dozens of other patients, obviously, but Stiles can't fault the man for sending him on his way as quickly as possible.

“I’ve already paid for this little visit,” Peter tells Stiles as they walk out of the clinic. Stiles looked owlishly at Peter, baffled that he’d do such a thing for him, “Don’t say a thing, I wanted to help you and you know that I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. Please let me help you this one time.” Stiles shut his mouth and nods. It’s not characteristic of Stiles to just give up this type of argument but in this case, he’s okay letting Peter take care of him. Just once.

“I want soup,” Stiles complains as he slides into the back seat of Peter’s car tiredly. He’s getting foggy again and it’s taking a lot of effort to remain sitting up.

“When we pick up your pills, I’ll get you your soup too.” Peter says with a small fond smile, typing away at his phone, “You need to call your Alpha and let him know I have you. Your phone’s been buzzing the last few seconds. I imagine he’s worried about you.”

“Shit.” Stiles groans and reaches for his phone that he’d left in the car. He had numerous missed calls and he knows he’s in for it once he answers. “Hi, Jake. . .”

_ “Stiles! Where are you, are you okay?”  _ Are the Alpha’s first words. It warms Peter’s heart that this new Alpha cares so much about Stiles. It’s evident in his voice and in the chosen first words. It also strikes him with a little bit of envy.  _ “We’ve been calling for hours!” _

“I’m sorry, Alpha.” Stiles feels a little weepy and he’s trying not to let emotion clog his throat, “I wasn’t feelin’ so hot today in court and the defendant went little nuts and pushed me over. I fell and I was so out of it that Peter took me to an Urgent Care.”

_ “Oh my God.”  _ Jake’s voice is angry,  _ “Are you okay? You’ve been sick the last couple days, did you get that checked?” _

“Yeah, I’ve got pneumonia,” Stiles answers weakly.

_ “Oh, Stiles. Why didn’t you let us take you to the doctors before?”  _ Jake chastises in a soft tone but Peter could still hear the panic and little tinges of anger over his beta being ill and injured,  _ “Do you need one of us to go get you?” _

“No, Peter’s taking me to pick up my meds, grab some supplies then I think he’s gonna take me back to the house. . .if that’s okay with you, Alpha.” Stiles hopes that Jake will let Peter drop him off. It’ll be a good chance for the two wolves to meet and get a feel for one another. Stiles doesn’t like Peter being on the outskirts of the pack and can hardly stand that he’s been there for so long. He wants Peter to know a truly wonderful pack. He wants Peter to have a family again and most of all, he wants Peter to be away from Scott.  _ His Alpha isolated him _ , Stiles thinks to himself and shivers at the thought of it, knowing exactly what that felt like.

_ “Sure, Stiles.”  _ Jake replies with a deep, powerful voice,  _ “I think I should meet this wolf anyways.” _

“Be nice, he’s helped me a lot, Jake.” Stiles scolds lightly. Peter feels panic settle in his belly, the idea of meeting another Alpha is worrisome, especially since his own pack isn't going to be backing him up. Though Peter doesn't think Stiles would let anything happen to him and for now, he's just going to have to have a little faith in the human he's quickly growing fond of. 

_ “I’ll do my best. You really worried all of us, Stiles.”  _ Jake says with a reprimanding tone,  _ “Jace has been pacing the porch for almost an hour now. _ ”

“Tell the pup to settle down, I’ll be back soon,” Stiles assures him. They say quick goodbyes and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief.

“You know he’s going to be a little pissy with me, right?” Peter points out with a small smirk. Though Stiles could see behind that false bravado and see the anxiety, the doubt, and insecurity lurking below. Stiles rolls his eyes and takes a chance on settling beside Peter, curling into the man’s side to take warmth. Peter’s arms go around Stiles almost automatically and Stiles can’t help but think about the way the wolf is practically purring.  _ When was the last time he held someone? When was the last time he had someone to hold him back? Who was the last person to touch him with affection instead of hatred? _

Stiles doesn’t want to think about it, because of the way Peter clutches at him, he thinks that the answer would make him cry. All that matters now is that Stiles doesn’t want Peter to go it alone any longer. He wants to take Peter into the pack and knows that it’s going to be a long shot, but if Stiles can bring Peter into the fold, then maybe. . .maybe Peter can heal too. Maybe they can heal together. If it means getting to be held like this again, by someone who knows him, knows his mind and his past and still likes him-admires him and maybe love him. . .then it’s worth the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna say sorry for how long it took me to post this chapter, I hate leaving the story for so long. I was really busy with school and my internship and now I'm under the weather so it took me longer to edit. However, it is a nice long chapter as a thank you to all ya'll who stick with the story and love it as much as I do! I truly appreciate all of you who comment and share with me what you think! It really fuels my fire and please keep writing in, I may not reply but I certainly do listen and read!  
> We're going to be pickin' up here soon, some shit is gonna start happening so fair warning, but I have a feeling that some juicy drama is what (most) readers want! Lol, thank you again and enjoy!


	9. Quit Resisting

Of course, the pack loves Peter almost immediately. They watch how careful Peter is with Stiles, how he handles their human with affection clear in his eyes. Jake watches Peter’s arm wrapped around Stiles’ middle and the kind look on the wolf’s face and it makes it easier to stomp the raging sense of possessiveness raging inside all of them. Stiles is cradling a to-go container of what looks like chicken noodle soup and he’s looking very sickly. Jace bursts out of the door and rushes to Stiles’ side. He takes one look at Peter, who is refusing to let go of Stiles and gives off a warning growl. Peter only huffs out a laugh and grins like the predator he is.

“Relax, pup.” Peter cajoles. Jace looks furious and is about to start something when Stiles coughs, “I’d like to take him inside if that’s alright with you. He’s very tired.”

“Jace, stand down.” Jake walks out of the house and evaluates Peter’s being. He takes to sniffs and gives a gruff nod. “Come in.”

Peter’s hackles have risen and the elder wolf is tense. Stiles feels the man’s body go stiff beside him and he shrinks just a little farther against the man, giving Peter something to ground him.  _ I’m older than all of them. _ Peter thinks bitterly for a moment. He goes on the defensive. He’s been at the mercy of an unforgiving Alpha for a long time. He’s suffered for it and he’s not willing to be subjected to another Alpha that is less than understanding. He’s been on his own for a long time and this occasion is no different. He had no backup this time around. So he decides that if anything, he’s going to hold onto what he knows. He grips Stiles tightly and revels in the fact that Stiles relaxes against him. 

Peter takes a breath and walks forward into the wolve’s den. Stiles points to the couch in the living room and Peter gently sets him down on the sofa. The older man spots a nearby TV tray and brings it around so that Stiles can begin eating his soup. Peter simply ignores the wolves staring at him and proceeds to pull out the prescription bottle of pills in his pocket and opens it, dolling out two little pills for Stiles to take. The human takes them without a fight and smiles gratefully at the wolf. When there’s nothing left for Peter to do, he turns and faces an unknown Alpha. Jake watched their interaction with a curious eye. He’d never met this wolf, but he doesn’t smell a threat. He doesn’t sense one and he knows that given Peter’s gentleness with Stiles, the wolf would never hurt their human. 

“My name is Jake.” The Alpha says, “Thank you for taking care of Stiles.”

“It was no trouble,” Peter replies, face and voice devoid of emotion. He’s guarded. It reminds him of Stiles when they found him at that McDonalds. The Alpha wonders what kind of Alpha has this effect on his betas. What kind of man? What kind of friend? It makes him angry. It fills him with rage for seeing such emotional damage.

“We very much appreciate it.” Jake goes on, “We are a small pack, pretty “ragtag”. We were all runaways, but we’re family. We take care of each other.”

“I would expect no less.” Peter says in a tone none of them could interpret, “Stiles is important. He deserves to be treated well.”

“Most people do.” Jake grimaces lightly, “Peter, would you mind coming back for dinner later this week? Friday, perhaps?” 

Stiles looks at the wolf hopefully and Peter can’t find it in himself to object. He knows that he has an obligation to Scott, no matter what kind of an Alpha the boy is, to be loyal. He wants to be loyal but he also wants to get out of the shit situation that he’s been in for a long time. He’s tired of being linked to Scott, tired of being alone and secluded. He’s tired of being the enemy.

“Sure,” Peter nods, “I’ll clear my evening.”

“Great,” Jake claps his hands, “We’re going to get Stiles to bed, he needs the rest.” Peter nods in understanding and truthfully, he’s happy to vacate the house and relax after a particularly long day.

“Alright.” Peter nods. He turns to Stiles and gives him a delicate pat on the head, “Stiles, if you ever need me, you’ll have to see me in person. Scott’s orders are still in place and I can’t contact you, even if you call, I can’t answer. You have my office address, if you need to see me, I’m always there. You’re always welcome to come and see me.”

“But-” Stiles reaches for him, not wanting Peter to go away. “How will we contact you?”

“Your Alpha is going to have to do it,” Peter says, he pulls out a card and writes his phone number on it. “Stiles, I can’t respond to your calls or texts or anything but I can read them. If you need something immediately, leave me a message and I’ll find you. Otherwise, have your Alpha call me.”

He hands Jake his card and gives them a firm frown. He gives Stiles a gentle caress against his cheek. He gives the other wolves a nod and leaves the house. He isn’t looking forward to spending the night alone, especially after seeing the wolves’ den. Walking into his apartment, he didn’t feel warm like how the house felt. He didn’t feel happy because he was terribly alone and no one really likes being alone. He poured himself a glass of bourbon and lit the fireplace. The leftover steak from yesterday is easy enough to reheat but it isn’t the pot roast that Peter could smell in the oven back at the wolves’ house. He feels cold and alone. 

Peter doesn’t like these feelings, feels like he’s out of place in his own home. He’s felt like this for so long that he got complacent. Then he got a glimpse of what Stiles gets to come home to and he’s so jealous. The empty pit inside his heart that he felt so keenly, the acheing emptiness that was almost painful if he thought about it too long. He tries not to let it consume him, this emptiness that he’s felt since the death of his pack, but it’s been so strong lately. It was strong when a year ago, Peter was attacked by a rogue Omega and had to put him down. He’d been injured and came close to losing his life. He’d been bed-ridden for a whole week before he’d managed to knit all his pieces back together. He’d been alone then, Scott hadn’t even called. Peter had been left to lick his own injuries just as he is doing now. 

He misses Stiles. He misses the warmth.

He misses it so  _ fucking _ much.

. . .

Jace helped get Stiles into a comfy pair of joggers and one of his oversized long-sleeves. They got him into bed after dinner and placed a trashcan beside his bed so he could toss dirty tissues. Eric made him a cup of hot tea and put Stiles’ favorite honey and lemon in it. Then the rest of the pack settled on the floor and on the beds around Stiles to talk. They passed around popcorn and candy.

“Okay,” Jake looks five years older, aged by the stress of today. Stiles has done a good job of shaking up his world, “Peter has done us all a massive favor.”

“We should have dragged you to the doctors days ago,” Jace shakes his head, “I don’t think I like this Peter guy.”

“You don’t know him, puppy.” Stiles teases, stealing the boy’s red vine. 

“Regardless, it’s unusual for a wolf to take care of another Alpha’s beta, Peter did us a solid. Now, Stiles, Peter made a comment that I’d like you to explain to us.” Jake says with an urgent expression, “Peter said that Scott’s orders are still in place and he can’t contact you. Can you tell us about that?”

Stiles looks heavy again. He looks sad and his scent radiates sorrow. Jake knows that whatever his human says, he’s not going to like it.

“Scott is my former Alpha. Peter’s current Alpha. A long time ago, I made the mistake of talking to him about Peter. I was still trying to keep in contact with Peter and Scott didn’t like that. I only just found out today that Scott Alpha ordered him not to contact me ever again.” Stiles tells them. They could smell the pain that it caused Stiles. 

There’s a unanimous anger. It’s a feeling shared throughout the pack.  _ What the hell kind of Alpha?! _ Jake thinks in anger. Stiles had told them all that Peter had been secluded from his pack but until now, they got to see the first hand the effects of a callous Alpha’s actions. Jake couldn’t stand it. 

“That’s fucked up,” Eric mutters. Stiles couldn’t help but nod in agreement, trying not to cry. It’s hard, not letting his emotions get the better of him, especially since he’s been so emotional that day. They can scent the fresh tang of salt tears and Jace brings a supportive arm around his friend. 

“I didn’t want to believe that Scott would be that messed up,” Stiles’ voice cracks, “For so long. I’ve been trying to think about when I last remembered Scott not being so fucked up. When was the last time he was my friend? When was the last time he was my brother?”

They listen to Stiles unload. Listen to him speak his thoughts and they all wonder who could get that absorbed with power that they just cast aside everyone who loved them. They wonder who could have hurt Stiles like this. Stiles, who is so loyal and giving. Stiles, who is gentle and loving. Stiles, who would die for them and vice versa. Jake couldn’t fathom it and it moves him to feel compassion for the older wolf that Stiles is trying to adopt. He could see it in Stiles’ face, how he wanted nothing more than to just take Peter in and give him a home. Though Jake is still hesitant, he wants to know more about the wolf before he lets him into the pack. Sure, expanding and bringing more betas into the fold would make Jake more than happy, he’s always wanted to build a family. Adding one more would only be furthering that dream. 

“Stiles, I want Peter to start interacting with the pack,” Jake tells him in a compassionate voice, “We’ll see how he fits into the pack.”

“That would be great,” Stiles wipes at his tears but smiles at them, “Peter’s had a rough past. Not all of it good, and the parts where it wasn’t good are just downright terrible but Peter is different here. He’s different when he’s not around Scott’s pack. He’s better.”

“If you trust him, then that’s all we need to give him a shot,” Tim says, his sentiment is agreed upon by the rest of the pack as they all give nods. Stiles gives a big yawn and his eyes grow heavier.

“Alright, let’s give Stiles the room. It’s late and he needs rest.” Jake rises from his seat on Jace’s bed and rubs a gentle hand against Stiles’ feverish throat, scent marking his beta before exiting the room.

“If you need anything, get your roomie,” Eric says as he leaves the room.

The pack is quick to vacate and Jace begins getting ready for bed. Stiles settles into bed knowing that Peter is just sitting alone in his apartment, nothing to do and no one around him. His heart breaks for the wolf and he finds that he misses Peter’s strong presence. He misses Peter’s cologne and he misses Peter’s warmth. He’s extremely tired, however, and his meds are only improving his situation just a little. So before he passes out for the night, Stiles picks up his phone and sends a text to Peter.

_ Thank you again for today, I don’t know how you keep doing it but you’re always in the right place at the right time to save me. Maybe I can do the same. _

 

 _._ _._ _._

 

The first dinner went as well as anyone could have expected. Stiles had been feeling loads better by the time that first dinner came around. He made dinner for everyone that night, a delicious steak dinner. They didn’t have a lot of money but for the sake of making a good impression, they went all out for Peter. Stiles had long since been a grill master and had been praised by all of his friends on his skills. 

Stiles pulled out all the stops. He cleaned the house despite his illness, he made the entire house spotless. He even made his own scented candles. He used to keep air fresheners throughout his house to keep it smelling seasonal like his mother had, but since he’s living in a pack of wolves who are terribly sensitive to scents, he had to think of something different. He had melted an unscented candle and put in flakes of an apple cinnamon scented candle until Jace told him the scent was perfect and not overwhelming to his senses. Stiles had enjoyed the challenge. He’d put little touches in the house to help tie things together and show Peter just how homey they are. He’d baked a bunch of different desserts including brownies, cookies, pies, and cake. He set the table, he even bought a new tablecloth for the Christmas season. 

Stiles was proud of his presentation. He’d told Peter to bring his favorite alcohol if he had a preference and then he admitted that it couldn’t get any better. The house was spotless, it smelled delicious, and the food was impeccable. Peter had found it so charming that he had fallen right into this warm, peaceful feeling. Seeing Stiles again only filled him with warm fuzzy feelings. Peter appreciated all the effort Stiles was going to to make him feel more comfortable. He felt his wolf settle in a way it hadn’t in years the moment he walked in the door. He felt safe, even though he isn’t a part of this pack, he still feels like he’s safe like the pack would protect him. It felt good for once.

Peter was guarded. He didn’t want to share, he didn’t want to open himself up to this new pack. He had just begun opening himself to Stiles, and that was fine. Stiles had always been a safe place. The human was accepting and comforting. Stiles is good and caring. He cared about Peter. No one felt that rushing Peter would benefit anyone, no one felt that they needed to get Peter to trust them all immediately. Jake knew that it wouldn’t be easy for the older wolf to come around. He was totally fine about that. He only wanted Peter to take his time. He only needed Peter to see that they saw him. 

It was hard. 

Peter was touchy and continued to keep up the facade he’d been using as armor for so long. He continued to exude false bravado and an air of mystic. Peter continued to be an enigma, an imposing presence of confidence with predatory undertones. Peter wanted them to think that he is dangerous, that he’s a creature to be cautious around, definitely not a cuddly wolf. Peter knows he’s not the cuddly type, he’s been aware of that for a long time. Jake could see the cracks in Peter’s mask whenever the wolf looked to their human. He could see the offending smirk slip ever so slightly into a fond expression when his eyes turned to Stiles. It was those moments that Jake knew he could begin to trust Peter. Jake could see who Peter really is underneath all the armor. 

So they meet again for Christmas. The pack invites Peter to celebrate with them and they have a wonderful meal, cooked by Stiles of course, and they trade gifts. Peter gifted them all with money, the wolf wasn’t sure what to get anyone but he wanted to show them all how much he enjoyed spending time with them in their pack. Stiles was just happy to sit beside Peter while exchanging their gifts. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated Christmas and in the moments when Stiles sat beside him, tightly curled against his side in outrageously fluffy batman pajama pants, he realized how much he missed it. It became a regular thing that Peter come and spend time with them. Every time the wolf had to go back to his own apartment, he would feel the cold a little more. Each time he left Stiles’ warm side he yearned to return to his human’s side. Stiles had gotten into the habit of texting the wolf every night before he fell asleep just to let Peter know he was thinking about him. Peter would stare at each message, still unable to return them, with some feeling in his heart caught between anger and longing so strong he thought he might break down again. 

New Year's Eve was a turning point. Some of the wolves had plans for parties with their friends from school, so the pack celebrated the night before. The night of, Stiles found himself alone in the house, everyone else had gone out. He had been sitting till around dinner time when he got hungry and lonely. Then he thought about Peter. The wolf had told him he’d be sitting in his living room attending to work he had let pile up.  _ Peter is probably hungry too _ , Stiles thinks to himself. He knew that deep down, he wanted to see Peter again. So he packed some things to stay with Peter overnight and sent a text.

 

_ On my way to your apartment, I’ll pick up pizza. It’s you and me for New Year's Eve. _

 

Peter’s heart skipped a beat after reading the text. He’d been buried in casework when the little ping of his phone broke him out of his thoughts. He’d been overjoyed that Stiles was on his way, surprised that the human would spend that night with him. He eagerly got the apartment cleaned up and prepared for a guest. It wasn’t too difficult as his housekeeper always kept his little place spotless. He brought out what little he had to offer in snacks but he was proud of himself for having a few bottles of assorted alcohols, one of which was champagne. 

Stiles didn’t speed.

He totally did. He broke numerous traffic laws to get to Peter faster. He had been smiling like an idiot the entire way to the apartment and swore that he wasn’t going to mess tonight up. It’s New Years and Stiles swore to himself that he’d kiss Peter by midnight. He would finally tell Peter about these feelings he’s been harboring. How he didn’t feel right when Peter left, or how he would always sink into Peter’s arms like he could get lost in them forever, or how he felt complete when Peter was with him.

Like the puzzle was coming together. 

After a couple weeks of interacting with the pack, integrating Peter into it as best he could, he felt like soon, Peter would forgo his bonds to an abusive Alpha for the bonds of one who cared whether he lived or died. Stiles wants Peter more than anything. Peter always took care of him. Their pack is small and isn’t the most financially stable. Hell, they’re all college students. When one of their cars broke down, Peter paid for the mechanic. When Stiles couldn’t afford a book for next semester’s classes, it showed up anonymously on Stiles’ doorstep. When Jace became hard pressed for an internship, Peter offered to take the boy into his firm. Peter had grown on them quickly and they all felt a place for Peter opening up in their hearts. Just like Stiles, Peter had fallen into them and fit too perfectly to ignore. 

Stiles was let into the building and felt suddenly far too poor to be there with his box of margarita and meat lover’s pizza from his favorite pizza joint. He felt like his converse would scuff up the expensive flooring. Taking the elevator up to the wolf’s apartment, Stiles felt it even more harshly when the attendant scoffed at his appearance. Standing outside of Peter’s door, though, the eagerness to see the wolf was coming back. Peter was at the door before he could even knock and hurriedly pulled Stiles into a tight hug. 

“This is a surprise,” Peter grins at the boy, “You’re spoiling me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Creeperwolf,” Stiles smirks, “I was lonely.”

“You? Lonely?” Peter chuckles, “Inconceivable.” 

“We should watch the Princess Bride,” Stiles laughs brightly, “I love that movie.”

“Do you?” Peter’s eyebrow rises in only a moment of surprise, “Have you read the book?”

“Oh yeah, loads of times. The copy I had back home was falling apart.” Stiles accepts the plate that Peter offered him to take the pizza.

“Really,” Peter serves himself while still occupying the same space as Stiles. The wolf felt ten times lighter with his favorite human near. “I would have taken you for more of a murder mystery type.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my fair share of murder mysteries. Agatha is my favorite of course, but I love a good romance.” Stiles smiles, unabashedly.

“Hm,” Peter makes a mental note of this statement and saves it away for later. “Well, I happen to have a copy of the movie. We can watch it if you like.”

“Sounds awesome, you got any popcorn?” Stiles asks hopefully, munching away at his margarita pizza. Peter nods and turns to his cabinet to retrieve the boxes of regular buttery popcorn and kettle corn, “You’re the best.”

Peter only keeps buttered popcorn there in case Stiles ever came over. The invitation had been there for a long time but Stiles hadn’t taken him up on that offer before till then.

“Of course you would like kettle corn.” Stiles chuckles.

“I like sweet things,” Peter shrugged, “I confess, my sweet tooth is rather potent.”

The wolf eyes the man with a certain. . .predetory glance. There’s a spark there in his piercing blue eyes. A spark of lust and longing. Maybe something more. . .Stiles isn’t sure. All he knows is that he wants to find out.

Peter is sure that Stiles is the sweetest thing on this planet.

Peter asks Stiles about his week and they begin to shoot the breeze, easy conversation settles over them and they get comfortable on Peter’s couch. The older man had poured them a glass of wine for dinner that, despite their simple meal, paired well. Peter thought it was an interesting thing. The two sat together, not even paying attention to the Marvel movie playing in the background. Stiles had no problem filling their time together with his voice. Peter had no problem listening, for he loved nothing more than the sound of Stiles’ voice. 

“It’s almost midnight, we should watch the ball drop,” Stiles says, taking the remote and changing it to ABC. The crowd gathered in New York all scream and shout, the sounds of celebration all around them. “My mom and I used to watch this every New Years Eve. Back then it was Dick Clark hosting not Ryan Seacrest.”

“We used to watch it too.” Peter nods, remembering his childhood and teen years. Each year spent in a loving home up until their murder, “My mother thought Dick Clark was one of the most attractive men ever born. My father didn’t feel the same, but Talia thought as my mother did.”

“He was pretty attractive. In a silver fox kinda way.” Stiles laughs, “Do you think of your parents often?” Stiles asks, sipping his wine.

“Not often.” Peter muses, “It’s been so long, I don’t remember certain things and when I think about them I. . .I become very depressed.” There’s a painful silence. Stiles recognizes that pain. He feels it whenever he thinks about his mother or the memory of his father when he was still kind and good. Stiles is moved with compassion and places a warm hand on Peter’s knee. 

“Sometimes a woman will walk by me and I’ll smell her perfume. Even though it’s not really exactly like how my mother used to smell, it’s like I remember again. Then when the scent passes, I sniff the air so hard for as long as I can to try and get that memory again.” Stiles tells Peter with a heavy heart. “Or someone will say the word mischief and I’ll be thrown back.”

“Mischief?” Peter chuckles lightly. He wants to stroke Stiles’ cheek. He only barely restrains himself from touching that pure porcelain skin.

“I couldn’t pronounce my name so I just kept saying mischief.” Stiles grins at the memory.

“It suits you,” Peter smirks, “Ever since I met you, you’ve been a trouble magnet.” 

“Always have been, always will be.” Stiles smirks with Peter, “I like trouble.”

“Like would be too boring without it.” Peter feels himself leaning in with Stiles. Coming ever so close to those perfectly pink lips. 

 

_ Ten. . .nine. . .eight.  . .seven. . .six. . .five. . . four. . .three. . .two. . .one! _

 

Peter’s lips connect with Stiles’ own, there’s heat building in their chests and it feels like the world exploded. The kiss takes their breath away and seems to go on for an eternity, but when they break apart, Stiles gasps. Whiskey eyes meet a storming ocean. 

_ Happy New Year! _

“Happy New Year,” Stiles says breathlessly.

“Happy New Year,” Peter whispers back. His eyes travel down to the human’s lips and he yearns to taste him again. So he does. Peter captures Stiles’ lips once more and the fire is back again, threatening to overcome them both. Peter hadn’t been a fan of fire in a long time, but he thinks that this time maybe. . .

Perhaps it was the wine or perhaps it was the overflow of emotions that push the two of them together. Stiles hadn’t taken a lover since finding Peter again and now that he’s had a taste, he can’t imagine what Peter might feel like. . .pressed against him. 

“Stiles. . .” Peter whispered, panting in effort. He’s struggling not to touch the man further.

“Peter,” Stiles wants more. His hands fly to Peter’s cheeks, bringing Peter into a deep, passionate kiss. His arms wrap around Peter’s neck, bringing their chests together. Stiles groans in pleasure, at the press and friction at their skin together. Peter shivers at the contact, his wolf preens at the contact. Peter soon finds that it isn’t enough. So he growls deep in his chest and lifts Stiles up, into his lap. Their bodies scramble for purchase, desperately seeking out the other. They kiss frenziedly like they were running out of time. When they break apart, they feel they’ve gone cold. 

“Stiles-,” Peter’s voice is high and it cracks with emotion. The wolf hadn’t been with another in so long but now the touch he shares with Stiles is sending him into madness, his body and mind crave more.

“Take me to bed,” Stiles begs, “Please.” 

Peter doesn’t need to be asked twice. His soul rejoices in Stiles asking for more. The wolf lifts Stiles easily, wrapping Stiles’ legs around his waist and quickly takes them to his room, his nose tucked into Stiles’ neck taking in deep inhales. Stiles holds on tightly, his heart racing like a racehorse and his soul sings. Peter settles the human gently on the bed. The air around them turns electric as Peter steps away from the man, fingers working quickly to take off his clothes. Stiles decides to save time and strip off his own, only to be halted at his jeans. Peter looms over him with that lustfull, seductive gaze and growls lightly, stopping Stiles from taking off his own pants. Peter wants to do that.

The wolf’s thumbs slip under the man’s weistband and in one swift movement, pulls his pants and underwear off. Stiles gasps at the vulnerability, at his exposed body. Then he wonders what Peter will say about his scars. With all his other flings, they never cared to ask. Peter knows his past, however, and this wolf is different. Peter’s eyes devour him. Just as Stiles’ eyes take in the glory that is Peter Hale. 

Stiles isn’t sure what happened because it happened so quickly. The moment he opens his eyes after blinking only once, he finds himself farther up the bed with a gloriously naked wolf on top of him. Peter kisses his chest, up his neck and around his jaw, stealing the breath from his lungs. Peter loves the way Stiles feels, the wolf wants to devour every single part of his human. He wants to loose himself in Stiles. 

“Touch me,” Stiles asks breathlessly. His wolf nods eagerly and his hand travels down, fingers barely brushing against Stiles’ stomach sending shivers down his spine. The muscles in his lower belly quiver at the touch and when Peter’s hand wraps around Stiles’ throbing member, he gasps, mouth open wide and Peter claims it for his own. Stiles could feel the little pinpricks of Peter’s fangs just brushing against his lips. The feeling of Peter’s fingers tightly gripping his pulsing cock made his hips jut forward, begging for friction, begging for Peter to do  _ something _ . 

Peter doesn’t need to be asked again.

Peter’s fingers circle around Stiles’ hole an he quickly retrieved the bottle of lube from his bedside table and begins working Stiles open. One finger and Stiles is moaning deeply, eyes closed and heart racing. Two fingers and Stiles is wriggling under Peter, struggling to remain still. Three fingers and Stiles is whimpering with pleasure. Four fingers and Peter’s eyes are glowing blue, eager and finally ready to turn Stiles into a puddle. Peter’s growls are constant, a deep rumbling deep in his chest. The thick scent of arousal and sex swirling around him is making his veins throb with sensation. 

There’s something in Stiles’ eyes. Peter doesn’t waste another second and settles his hips between Stiles’s legs, then pushes into his lover insistently. The thick, throbing cock being thrust into his body fills him in ways he’d never been filled before. Peter feels Stiles’ enthusiasm and lifts the man up into his lap, deep powerful thrusts making Stiles see stars. He feels like his soul is filled, like a piece of something had finally been found. The puzzle was starting to come together. 

“Ah,” Stiles moans loudly, tipping his head back to allow Peter’s fangs to drag against the soft flesh of his neck. The scrapes make his cock twitch, precome flowing out of his cock. Peter sets a punishing pace. The wolf growls louder now, his voice deeper as he whispers Stiles’ name in the darkness, “Fuck, Peter.”

The wolf wants to hear Stiles say his name over and over and over again.

“Stiles,” Peter growls, “Stiles. . .”

“P-ah!” Stiles cries out as Peter’s long, thick cock hits his prostate again and again, “Peter!”

Stiles screams the wolf’s name, tears spring to his eyes as emotion overwhelms him and Stiles feels as though he’s going to explode with it. Peter’s never felt quite like this before. He’d been with many people before, countless bed mates, but none have ever gotten his blood pumping like this. None have ever felt this  _ good _ , this  _ tight _ , this  _ sweet _ . Peter feels as if Stiles was made for him, completely his equal in body, mind, and spirit. He never knew that his body, all of his senses, could come alive like this. His whole being felt like it was on fire, the good kind of fire. The kind that set our soul ablaze. 

And when the orgasm washed over the two of them, it formed a bond. One that Stiles didn’t know could ever be formed, but he felt it. Peter felt utterly connected and when his orgasm washed over him, he clutched Stiles against him, holding on as tightly as he could with his arms wrapped firm around Stiles’ ribs. Stiles’ arms wrapped around Peter’s neck, long legs wrapped around Peter’s hips. His vision went fuzzy and he clutched Peter tightly, breathing the scent of him in. Sandlewood and vetiver. . .beautiful scent. 

Their world lights on fire as they pant, struggling to catch their breath, clutching at each other, anchoring each other. The bond they’re forging, will keep them together, tied to the Earth and to one another. Stiles hasn’t felt anything so pure and beautiful since his formation of a bond with the pack. It brought new tears to his eyes and he cried in Peter’s arms. The wolf could only hold his anchor through the tears, through the emotions. Every molecule of his skin feels like it’s coming alive again and his skin wishes to be closer. He wishes he could meld into the man he’s holding so they could be one. It’d been so long since he’d felt another against him, so long since he’d felt a connection. He could almost die for more.

Stiles would give him more, wouldn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! It took me a while, I wanted to really get this right. I hope you all like!  
> Let me know what you think! I love every bit of your feedback.  
> Have a great weekend everyone!


	10. Stay

It’s strange how time passes. At face value, it passes so slowly that it seems as if time is running at snail’s pace. When you’re young, time is the slowest thing in existence and sometimes it feels as though turtles are moving faster. It never feels as if it’s the right time or that life is truly beginning when you’re stuck in this in-between phase. 

When you’re older, time flies too quickly. A single blink and suddenly a month has gone by and you’re thinking about your twenties as if it were yesterday. There’s never enough time and it’s running past you at top speeds, unable to be caught or even slowed down to a normal pace. There just wasn’t a way to slow down.

Stiles knew there was an age gap. He knew there was a separation there, between him and Peter. It didn’t strike him as odd, however, he seemed to revel in it. He knew Peter wasn’t in a hurry to make things between them a  _ forever _ kind of thing and with their relationship just beginning to blossom, Stiles wasn’t willing to risk going too fast. He wanted to take his time with Peter, wanted to show him, love, show him family, and bring him together with the pack. 

Peter was blatantly aware of the age gap between him and Stiles. He knew the looks he got when he kissed Stiles out in public or in his office. Not that he cared, it was just something that he had to get used to. If it meant that he could keep Stiles in his life, he’d put up with the judgment. Peter wants Stiles in his life and in his bed for as long as he can keep the human. The more time he spent with Stiles, the more he wished to just make Stiles his. Then and there, take the human and claim him for eternity. 

They took it slow. Date nights on Thursday evenings, Stiles would go directly to Peter’s apartment right after he finished with classes and he would wait for Peter to return from the office, the two of them would make dinner then they would occupy their evening with homework or work or chess. Whatever they wished to do, they did, but they always ended up in Peter’s crisp gray sheets. Sometimes they would make love and sometimes they would fuck like their lives depended on it. Sometimes they just cuddled, exhausted from a week of hell. They would always fall asleep together, wrapped in each other’s arms, warm and content. Those were Stiles’ favorite moments. Shrouded by darkness, Stiles would stare into Peter’s eyes, smiling brightly when Peter would illuminate his ice blue wolf eyes. Peter would trace the muscles of Stiles’ limber body, he loved running his claws over Stiles’ belly, watching the muscles there clench at the sensation. 

The two of them grew closer. Peter would come to the house and spend an evening every week with the pack, getting to know everyone. They invited Peter to pack outings, pack dinners, and whenever Peter was free, pack nights. Peter felt more and more at home as he spent more time with the pack. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so well taken care of. No one noticed when two and a half months passed by. Suddenly it was time for spring break and the pack needed to figure out what they wanted to do. No one could settle on one single idea and it led to the biggest argument the pack had ever had. 

“A week on the beach!” Eric shouts on top of everyone else’s shouting.

“Road trip to Oregon!” Jace suggested just as forcefully. The uproar is giving Stiles a headache and he’s gracefully stepped out of the room, out of the argument to join Peter in the living room where he’s currently typing away on his laptop. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Stiles asks cutely. He sits down beside his wolf and curls into his side. Peter huffs in amusement, not looking away from the deposition in front of him.

“Reading.” Peter answers his lover, “I thought you were all at each other's throats in there.” The older man chuckles.

“Nah,” Stiles sighs, “They just like to argue about this stuff. Everyone wants to do something different and until we come to a concession, we’re not going to be able to do anything for spring break.” He says in a sad tone.

“Why don’t you all just go to Yosemite?” Peter proposes, “You’re all avid hikers, why not hike across the park, tent camp, and spend the week out in nature?” 

The entire house goes silent. Stiles really likes that option. He wonders why none of them had thought about that before. The pack files in from the kitchen and they all look at Peter with wide eyes, Stiles could tell they were all really considering it.

“That sounds cool,” Jace says quietly, “I wouldn’t mind trekking through the park, doing a couple trails.”

“It would be fun. . .” Eric agrees. They're all sharing glances, it's not a hard decision to make and it's something they hadn't done before. It would be a new adventure.

“Especially since the full moon is that week,” Tim points out, "Might be nice to actually get under the moon and run."

“It’ll take around eight hours to get there.” Jake thinks out loud, “We don’t even have camping gear.”

“How hard could it be to buy a couple of tents? I’m sure we could find some pretty cheap off of Offerup.” Stiles points out, “We’d need to look into permits for hiking, just in case they might require it.”

“Okay, tonight, let’s start a checklist and we’ll run up the cost,” Jake says, happy that they’ve finally come to a consensus. He turns to Peter, looking at all the binders and things that the man is shuffling through. Peter never comes over without something to do while he’s there at the house. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Peter without a book in his hand or a case file in his briefcase. He knows that the wolf does all that he can to stay busy. There isn’t much else the wolf lives for besides Stiles and his job.  “Peter, you’ll have to join us.”

“Oh,” Peter’s eyes go wide. His fingers brush over the papers in his hands and he thinks about this. He hadn’t had a vacation in years. He’d certainly earned a week away at  _ least _ . His dossier is impeccable and he could certainly afford it. He’d have to clear it with the DA and he’d have to arrange-

Well, how could he pass up a week with Stiles?

“You’re sure you want me to come along?” Peter asks, still unsure. Stiles takes his hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Of course,” Alpha Jake says with a soft smile, “We’d really like it if you went with us. Plus, you need a break just as much as the rest of us.”

“Well,” Peter thinks for a minute of all the things he’ll have to arrange, “Well I guess I better call my boss.”

Stiles laughs and gives Peter a jovial eye roll. Things are busy for the next week as everyone scrambles to get ready for their trip. The whole pack gets all their gear together. The large sixteen people, a hexagonal tent that Peter delivered to the house without much of a note, just letting everyone know that it was just a small gift. They knew better, of course, but couldn't argue to Peter that they should pay him back. They didn't keep Peter around for his money and Jake especially wanted to make that clear to him. They packed their hiking packs and rolled up their sleeping bags. They packed their travel food, a grill, and rain gear. Stiles packed his first aid kit, his pillow and he rolled up his favorite blanket into his sleeping bag. Peter surprised him with an air mattress for the two of them, stating that it wouldn’t do for the human to sleep on the ground. The rest of the pack only grumbled a little. They were mostly just jealous that they didn’t have an air mattress as nice as the one the pair of lovers would be sleeping on. 

Peter looked rather comfortable on the day that they set out to the park. He turned up at the house in jeans and a warm looking thermal shirt. His hiking boots look new and he’s got his bags with him. Stiles greets him with a kiss and a smile. They embrace and Peter’s arms go around his hips easily. His nose goes straight for his flannel-covered neck. Stiles smells absolutely delicious. He smells like the spring. Like fresh air, clean and crisp. He smells wholesome and pure. Peter’s heart feels like it swells at the very sight of him. 

“Alright lovebirds, we’re killin’ daylight here.” Jake jibes with a light air. He’s got his pack and an overnight bag full to the brim. It gets tossed into the back of the pack van with all the rest of the bags. Peter’s things look brand new, the rest of the pack doesn’t miss that his things are designer. They knew Peter had a lot of money, they could never fault the man for that, and if they knew where a good chunk of his wealth came from then they wouldn’t feel so envious. 

Peter sets his things in with the rest of the pack’s items and hops into the back of the other car with Stiles. They’d had to pick up a rental car for the journey to accommodate all the pack going on this trip but Peter had happily picked up the tab on the extra SUV. Peter hadn’t been on a road trip with a bunch of twenty-year-olds since he was in college. Though it wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, he found himself enjoying the time he spent on the long journey to Yosemite. They talked for an hour or two then started listening to their own music, happily shutting out the rest of the world. Road trips are fun for about two hours, then when it settles down, it can get kinda boring. Stiles kept up until the three and a half hour marker. They had left early that morning, the sun hadn’t even risen just yet and now they’re traveling in the early morning. Stiles is tired. Peter offered him one of his headphones and they listened to a book on Peter’s phone. Something rather boring, it failed to catch Stiles’ interest but it served its purpose and the reader’s voice put Stiles to sleep. Peter held Stiles’ hand as the younger man leaned against his posterior and fell asleep with his head on Peter’s shoulder. 

By the time they get to the park, it’s late afternoon and set up is done before dinner. It’s cold, the lingering effects of winter still evident in the park. They’d been told at the entrance that some areas in the higher altitudes still have snow. It’s beautiful, for sure. Springtime is moving in and the grass is green again. The leaves and all the flowers are brightly colored and alive. They took time before setting up to just take it all in. When it came time to set up, everyone pitches in. The tent itself takes a while. The massive thing is easy enough to set up but with so many parts in operation that everyone needed to work together. Setting up the rest of the camp once the tent was pitched was easy. Peter got their air mattress set up and tossed their bags on top of it. Then one by one each wolf set up their own sleeping mat and the rest of their items. Outside, they put together the campsite. Lawn chairs scattered around the fire pit on the sit and an outdoor stove sits on the picnic table. Once they finished putting everything together, they started making dinner. Peter hadn’t had chili dogs in a while, especially hot dogs boiled over a campfire. 

_ When in Rome _ , Peter thinks to himself. He delves into the chili dog that Stiles made for him and it’s been so long, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that his palate isn’t that demanding. They tell ghost stories and make s’mores. Around the fire, they laugh and it’s like all the other times they’ve had these kinds of pack nights. Peter hadn’t been this relaxed in years. He held Stiles close and roasted marshmallows with his other arm. Before going to bed, they pulled out a map of the park and decided on a hiking trail for the next day. 

“Half-dome is amazing, we’ve gotta do that hike.” Eric says eagerly, “It’s a long day though and a really tough hike. We’ll have to get a permit for that one too.”

“Let’s go easy tomorrow. How about the Valley Loop trail?” Jace suggests.

“It’s thirteen miles,” Tim complains lightly. 

“We could always branch off, it splits around the six-mile marker for a bridge at El Capitan.” Stiles points out, “I wanna do the full thirteen miles. It’s a pretty easy hike from what the brochure says. Nice, all day hike.” 

“Twenty-six miles though. . .” Peter looks at Stiles skeptically, “You sure you can manage?” 

“Old man, you’ll have to keep up with  _ me _ .” Stiles pokes Peter in the chest with a firm finger, “I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Peter chuckles. He likes the challenge that’s brewing and seeing Stiles all amped up for it makes him eager. 

“Then it’s settled,” Jake claps his hands eagerly, “We should all go to bed early, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

There are nods and huffs in affirmation of what their fearless leader is suggesting. They pack their bags for the morning so they could get up, eat breakfast then go. Stiles set everything he needed away and began getting ready for bed. It had gotten considerably colder as the evening wore on and he had never been so happy that he lives with a pack of furnaces. He’ll be just fine tonight. He pulls on one of Peter’s warm sleep shirts that he had stolen one of their December nights and a pair of thick sweatpants and winter socks. He gets cold easily and he wants to spend the night warm and comfortable. Peter runs hot and he’s content in a long sleeve and his underwear. They’re the first ones in bed as they’ve thought things through earlier and packed for hikes before they’d even gotten to the park. So they lay together in the tent, curled against one another happily. Stiles lays across Peter with a happy smile on his face as Peter’s hands trace over Stiles’ back in gentle strokes. 

“Are you warm enough?” Peter asks, pulling the comforter he brought around Stiles’ shoulders, tucking the both of them in. 

“I’m perfect,” Stiles sighs into the man’s chest, practically purring in contentment. He’s warm, full, safe and happy.

“Good,” Peter’s chest rumbles with satisfaction. 

“Keep it PG tonight would you two?” Jace grumbles as he enters the tent and climbs across to his sleeping back right next to the pair. He’s a little jealous at Peter stealing his human but he’ll get over it. He can’t help but find the two of them adorable. It’s tooth rotting if he were being honest. 

As the rest of the pack filed into the tent, it slowly filled with warmth. With Jace right next to Stiles, the pup put off a lot of heat. The wolves all settled into their sleeping bags. The last one in is Jake. He zips up the tent and clicks the lock shut. Stiles thought it was funny that they invested in a lock for the tent. Stiles couldn’t imagine a safer place than surrounded by wolves. Jake rolled his eyes at Stiles’ chuckle.

“Don’t want anyone taking any of our stuff while we’re gone now do we?” Jake points out yet again. Stiles holds up his hands in surrender. They put out the lanterns and in a matter of seconds, the tent is filled with the glowing eyes of werewolves. Stiles grins brightly, the entire tent is illuminated and he’s loving it. He looks up into bright blue eyes, shining like the brightest topaz. He brushes light fingers against Peter’s cheek and the older man kisses the nearest fingertips. Stiles loves those eyes. He loves them as his nightlights. 

“Goodnight, everyone,” Stiles sighs tiredly, wishing everyone pleasant dreams. They all whisper their goodnights and just as quick as the day passed, they all fell asleep. One by one, snores began to fill the tent. The only one that remained awake was Peter. He held Stiles tightly to his chest like a child would his favorite teddy bear. He just couldn’t believe that Siles is his. He couldn’t possibly love the younger man more. 

. . .

The first few days of their vacation were much the same. They went out, hiked the park, and returned to their camp tired but extremely happy. They had gone on full day hikes and on the third day, Stiles decided that he was ready to do Half-Dome. So Stiles was sure to pack his backpack with everything he might need. He filled his Camelbak to the brim with water and then put two more water bottles in his side bottle pockets. He had a water purifier pump packed, his first aid kit, phone, and snacks. Lots of snacks. Stiles wanted to be 100% prepared for everything. He’s ready. The wolves didn’t pack nearly as much as Stiles did but he’s also the only human in the bunch. 

“Alright, boy scout.” Peter nudges his boyfriend awake at an ungodly hour. It’s still dark out but if they want to get to the trailhead by dawn to get back to finish before nightfall, they needed to get going. 

“Fuuuuck,” Stiles groans loudly. Peter chuckles but helps Stiles roll out of bed. The rest of the wolves are slow to rising just like Stiles is. The human kicks at Jace with a light foot, waking the boy.

“We need to get going,” Jake groans as he pulls on his rain jacket. They hand out leftover breakfasts and pack into the car to drive to the other end of he park. It’s early morning, cold, and the sun is barely starting to rise over the mountain ridges to illuminate the valley. Stiles cuddles into Peter’s side and can’t help but feel anxious for the day’s adventure. He’d heard that the hike they’re about to do is hard and not for the faint of heart. He’s just hoping he can keep up on this intense hike that climbs thousands of feet. 

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Peter whispers to his lover.

“Stay by me and I will be.” Stiles smiles at his wolf. Once they park and arrive at the trailhead, they’re doing light stretches and going over the day.

“Whenever anyone needs a break, we take a break. Everyone stays together and I want Stiles in the middle of our group with Peter. We’ll make it to the top and take a pack photo.” Jake says as he tightens the straps on his pack, “Alright guys, once we get to the top of Nevada fall, we’ll break for lunch.” 

“Let’s go!” Jace bounces excitedly. The sun is beginning to shine through the trees and the birds are chirping loudly. It’s a beautiful forest. Spring turns the leaves and tall grass green, the trees are heavy with thick vermillion foliage and wildflowers are starting to bloom in the valley. The smell of pine and fir surrounds them and the creatures of the forest are all running and going about their business. 

“The bees are buzzing, the field mice are scurrying. . .” Jace practically hops down the trail in excitement. The wolf is filled with energy and he’s hyper. 

“It is rather beautiful,” Peter remarks beside Stiles. The human has the mouthpiece to his water reservoir in his mouth and he’s been sucking on it the last twenty minutes completely absentminded and unaware of the fire he’s stoking inside of Peter. The older man hasn’t peeled his eyes away from Stiles’ lips and he doesn’t think he’s going to. 

Stiles is fine for the first part of the journey. He makes it to the top of Nevada fall easily and he feels good to keep going so they walk along the river until they’re completely alone along the Riverbend. 

“Alright, let’s stop here for a bit and break for lunch and water,” Jake says. The wolves hum in appreciation and slide off their packs to sit down on a nearby fallen tree. Peter takes Stiles’ water pump and refills his water bottle as well as one of Stiles’ empty ones. The older man wanted to make sure that he had all the water he could need for this journey. 

“Look, a butterfly. . .” Stiles says. He points out a large orange and black colored thing flying through the air. It floated over towards their group and flapped vigorously trying to avoid the wolves but it wasn’t fast enough to escape Peter. Stiles let out a squeak when Peter’s large hands clapped around the butterfly, encompassing it in his clutches. Peter smirked at his boyfriend and opened his hand after a few moments to reveal the butterfly to Stiles. The human’s jaw is still slack as he carefully offered his own hand to the butterfly. He could barely stop the squeal building in his throat as the butterfly crawls onto his knuckles. Then, just as abruptly as the thing had come into their midst, it flew away again. Stiles’ golden eyes followed it as it flew off. 

“Oh my God. . .” Jace laughs, “You guys are so soft, Peter’s a jellywolf.” That comment makes Stiles spit out his water.

The eldest wolf rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Child, I have more danger in my little finger than you have in your entire body.”

“I doubt that,” Jace teases again. Stiles watches the interaction carefully, he’s the only one that really knows how truly dangerous the man he’s been sleeping with is. He’d like to keep it that way.

“Alright, now that that tender moment is ruined, let’s get going. I want to get back to camp at a decent hour.” Stiles sighs gets to his feet and stretches. He still feels good, his body is keeping up and now that he’s eaten, he feels even better. 

As the pack moves farther up the mountain, they travel in silence. Now that they’re climbing in altitude, they’re concentrating on breathing. Stiles’ muscles ache. He’s starting to feel fatigued but he’s able to push through. The air gets thinner and thinner the farther up they go. There are so many stairs and Stiles thinks that he’s going to die before he reaches the top. They take a couple of breaks, always stopping when Stiles needs a minute. Peter keeps a close eye on his lover, always making sure the younger man is well prepared and cared for. 

By the time they reach the cables to climb the rest of the way to the summit of the mountain, Stiles thinks he might pass out. Not because of exhaustion so much as he’s terrified of the cables. He looks out over the edge of the mountain, this he can deal with, but ascending all the way up there with only thin metal cables to keep him from sliding off the face of the mountain towards certain death. . .well, it’s daunting to say the least. He’s not sure he can handle it. They stop while Stiles looks at the beginning of the climb, the first installment of metal cables on feet away from him. 

“We don’t have to get to the top,” Jake assures Stiles, “We made it this far and that’s pretty great.” It is pretty great. It was a super challenging climb and Stiles knows that getting this far was a major accomplishment. However, getting to the tip top of the mountain would be an even bigger one and Stiles isn’t a quitter.

“We came all this way. It would be a shame if we didn’t see it through.” Stiles grins to his Alpha, “We gotta push on.”

The pack cheers their human on and even though they’re all terrified, they’re all in it together. Jake leads the pack up the mountain, with each wolf trailing one by one, single file behind him. 

“Keep on pushin, men!” Jake shouts, cheering his pack on.

Stiles doesn’t look down, his knuckles are white around the steel cables. Peter is a warm presence at his back, however, and his lover makes him feel ten times better about what he’s doing. Together, they get to the top of the mountain. Once at the summit, they all sat on the cold, granite mountaintop. Stiles is panting, trying to catch his breath and the wolves are acclimating as well. Stiles can’t believe he did it. He can’t believe that he made it to the top of the mountain. As he looks out at the valley around them, he thinks about everything that’s led up to this point. The struggle and the pain, everyone who’s ever done him wrong. Stiles can’t help but thank every single person, thing, and event in his life that hurt him and brought him so low because, without all of that, he would have never come so high. 

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asks, seeing the pensive and far away look in his lover’s eyes. Stiles comes back to Earth then, seeing Peter as if with new eyes. He’d always seen how amazing the wolf was and now, seeing Peter flushed and brilliantly alight with life, he can’t help but fall in love again.

“I love you,” Stiles blurts. Peter’s eyes widened only a fraction. It’s as if the whole mountain has gone silent at the revelation. Then the world starts spinning again. Peter smiles at his human and chuckles.

“I love you too, darling.” Peter laughs. The wolf feels elated, he’s on cloud nine, he’s higher than he’s ever been before.

“Peter,” Jake had been watching the whole interaction and couldn’t help but grin in joy at his beta and would be beta. This moment only sealed the deal, “When we get back to camp, I think we should discuss your place in this pack.”

Peter’s eyes go comically wide again and he looks at Stiles. The human chuckles and smiles brightly. Peter only nods to Jake, happily agreeing to that conversation. Stiles munch on a granola bar while Peter takes in the sights. Their little break lasts around fifteen minutes before they decide to grab a couple of photos then head back down the mountain. Another hiker volunteers to take their photo and Stiles gladly says yes, handing him his phone. The pack quickly gets into a group, all of them linking arms and wide smiles spread across their faces. It’s still a beautiful day and Stiles is incredibly happy to start heading back down.

“The cables are going to be harder going back down so Stiles, be careful where you put your feet,” Jake instructs. Just like before, he goes down the cables first. Stiles is starting to feel a little panicky about half the way down the cables when a strong gust of wind makes him lose his balance for a moment. He stops, breathes harshly and grips the cable like his life depends on it. Peter had been admiring the view of Stiles’ ass right in front of him along their descent but when he heard the jump in Stiles’ heartbeat, he put a calming hand on the human’s lower back, practically cradling his lover in a spooning position. 

“You’re alright, Stiles.” Peter assured him, “You’re fine. You’re doing so well and we’re almost at the bottom of the cables.” Peter’s voice rises above the wind and ringing in Stiles’ ears and he’s soothed just enough to start moving again, this time slower. When their feet are firmly on the rocky ground, safe from falling to their deaths, Stiles’ shakes begin to abade.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, happy to be down from there. Peter hugs his human tightly, murmuring ‘anything for you’ into his lover’s neck. 

“Now comes the easy part.” Jace stretches loudly, happy to be going downhill for a change.

“Speak for yourself, going downhill is the worst.” Stiles snorts. The young, impetuous wolf runs his fingers through his long blonde hair and pretends to flip it flippantly. 

“Alright,” Peter squeezes the back of Stiles’ neck. “Let’s get back to camp, I’m starving.”

“Soup for dinner!” Eric cheers from the front of their group.

The rest of the hike was monumentally simple. Stiles made it all the way to the falls without incident. Though Stiles supposes Murphy’s law just couldn’t help itself. The rocks by Nevada fall are even sloppier than they had been this morning and the pack knew Stiles was going to have a hard time with this portion, they could smell the fatigue on him. So they traveled slower, giving Stiles enough time to move carefully, but  _ Murphy’s law _ is a bitch. Stiles makes one wrong step and his ankle twists as he crumples to the ground. He would have kept falling down the rocks had it not been for Peter catching him. Stiles let out a pained yelp when his ankle switched and the weird scrunching noise that everyone around him heard knew that it couldn’t be good. When he stopped moving and was safely seated on the steps, he’s hyperventilating in an attempt to keep the tears from spilling out of his eyes. 

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,  _ fuck _ !” Stiles whimpers as he clutches his ankle in tight hands. 

“Stiles,” Peter’s eyes are focused and his entire body is rigid as he kneels in the mist, eyes trained on Stiles, “You need to move your hands, I need to see your ankle.”

“Peter,” Stiles cries breathlessly. “I twisted it,” Peter gets Stiles to remove his hands and when he sees his ankle, ice grips him. It’s not a pretty sight. The bone sticks out and puts the ankle at an odd angle and the surrounding skin is quickly beginning to swell and bruise. 

“You’re so accident prone, love.” Peter tries to ease the situation. Stiles is struggling to breathe through the pain, however, and he’s attracting a crowd.

“Oh my God, Harold!” A woman in the ugliest khaki shorts stops to call her husband who’s a few paces behind her. The woman brushes her visor aside and crouches beside Peter, inserting herself despite the dozen men surrounding Stiles in a protective cuddle, “My husband is a doctor, sweetie, just hold on and he can see what’s going on.”

“What is it, Marge?” Harold, an older gentleman arrives on the scene and zeroes in on the issue quickly, “Oh Shit, son. You really fucked yourself up.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Stiles bites. He's clutching his ankle and trying to breathe through the pain. Peter is holding his shoulders, enraged at the fact that he can't take Stiles' pain with witnesses around. The older couple is none the wiser.

“Alright, can I take a look?” He asks. The older man hands his wife his walking stick. Stiles nods, looking to Peter for help. The wold begrudgingly moves aside to allow the doctor to take a look. “Yep, it’s dislocated. Quite an achievement, usually it’s hard as shit to do something like this to your ankle. You sprained it a lot in the past?”

“Yeah a couple times playing lacrosse.” Stiles admits, still breathing through the pain.

“That’s good. Alright, I’m going to have to pop it back in. It’ll hurt like hell but you need to hold still, I don’t want to get knocked off the mountain.” Harold says with a dark grin. He grips Stiles’ ankle and sighs, “You play for college?”

“No, I played in high-” Stiles screamed loudly, nearly blacking out from the pain as the doctor popped the bone back into place without any warning. “You mother _ fucker- fucking shit on a motherfucking stick. Fuck!” _

Stiles continues to curse. Harold takes another look at the ankle, making sure everything is back where it should be. It’s turning an angry red, he’s sure that the young man is going to be in pain and probably going to bruise like no one’s business.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” The doctor asks. Peter, who had been silent throughout this entire ordeal, holding on to Stiles tightly so the younger man didn’t lash out and hurt anyone else, unzipped Stiles’ backpack and pulled out the first aid kit. 

“Sure is lucky there was a doctor on the scene,” Eric says, taking a picture of the whole mess in front of him for record keeping (a.k.a. To tease Stiles later). 

“I’ve been away from the hospital a day and look what happens.” Harold laughs as he breaks the ice pack and places it gently on the ankle. He unwraps the ace bandage and tightly wraps Stiles’ ankle, doing well to ignore the boy’s crying. It’s a painful injury. He knew first hand that it could have been worse had he not been there, now though, the boy can continue his vacation. His ankle wouldn’t need surgery and he’ll likely have to see a doctor again later to get crutches and maybe a boot. He’d make it, though.

“You won’t be able to walk on this foot for a while.” Harold says to Stiles with a serious gaze, “See your doctor when you get home, for now, keep the foot elevated and eat lots of calcium. Take ibuprofen regularly and stay off your foot for a while.”

“Thank you,” Stiles grits, “I appreciate it.”

“No worries kid. Good luck getting down the mountain.” Harold says, smiling at the group. “Try not to hurt yourself again.”

“I’ll try.” Stiles chuckles weakly. He feels like he could sleep right there on the rocks. The doctor and his wife wish everyone safe travels before continuing their hike up the mountain. The pack look at Stiles and begin thinking over how to get him down with a busted ankle.

“Piggyback it is,” Peter sighs, slipping of his pack and hands it to Jace. The wolf is busy looking at Stiles with wide, worried eyes. 

“You can’t carry me the whole way, Peter.” Stiles says doubtfully.

“Watch me, love.” Peter kneels in front of Stiles, pulling the young man’s arms around his neck and his legs around his hips. With almost no effort, Peter gets to his feet and adjusts Stiles on his back, careful with his injured ankle. Stiles cries out at being jostled but happily settles against Peter’s back. 

“You got him?” Jake asks.

“Yes, of course.” Peter answers. A deep, content growl emanated from his chest when Stiles puts his chin in the crook of his neck. Peter looked around and saw that they were alone. Without hesitation, he takes Stiles’ pain, barely flinching. Stiles practically sags against him, free from the pain. Stiles places a small kiss on Peter’s neck and tightens his arms around Peter’s neck. 

“You’re the best, sweetwolf.” Stiles murmurs.

“Only for you, darling mine,” Peter answers with a grin. His blue eyes glint in the evening sun. They carried on through the valley, all the way back to the car. They’re all tired, especially Peter, but he didn’t complain once. They get Stiles into the car and head back to camp where he’s on a strict order for bedrest. 

The sun sets quickly over the camp and it’s nightfall far faster than anyone anticipated. Jace works quickly to get the fire going and Peter sits Stiles down in a camping chair. He drapes a blanket over the human and elevates Stiles’ leg on his lap where he continuously takes his pain.

“Today was amazing,” Jake says with a bright smile.

“Yeah, it was a super cool hike.” Tim agrees with his Alpha. 

“It got a little hairy there for a minute but it was worth it,” Stiles chuckles. He curls farther into his chair and pokes Peter lightly with his good foot. The older wolf laughs and rubs his good foot. The wolves cook their dinner and sit around, looking through the photos they took through the day. It’s the quietest evening they’d had since they’ve been there. After they eat, they break out the s’mores and start roasting marshmallows. 

“I think now’s as good a time as any,” Jake smiles, “We’ve been talking it over for a bit and we’ve come to a unanimous decision. Peter, we didn’t know who you were in the beginning and we saw how you act with Stiles. We see the sincerity in all your actions and we know that we’re young and inexperienced, but we know that we can give you security, family, and love. We can give you a pack. A safe place. We’ll never treat you how your pack treats you now, I know it’s a big-”

“Jake, if you’re asking me if I want to join the pack, the answer is yes.” Peter gives them a small smirk but the emotion behind his eyes is burning for all to see. 

“Oh,” Jake laughs, scratching the back of his neck, “We’ll get used to the forwardness.”

“Welcome to the pack.” Tim smiles. The other wolves let out happy howls, totally happy at earning another bond, forming something wonderful and strong. In that instant, Peter feels the weak string in his soul snap. There’s a hot sensation in his chest and a chain, thick and strong, forms. It takes the air out of his lungs and the clutches his chest. He thought it would hurt, losing another bond. He had lost so many already. It had been so long since he’d been filled with this kind of emotion. It wasn’t since his sister was Alpha. Laura left him in a hospital in a comatose state, completely vulnerable to anyone who would have wished him harm. Then Scott cast him out with only a painfully lonely tether. Now, there’s a bright, strong, warm, link in his soul to wolves who feel. . .so strongly for him. He’d felt Scott’s disgust and apprehension, he’d felt his daughter’s confused loathing, and he’d certainly felt everyone else’s derision towards him in the meager bond they shared. 

Now he could feel the strength of Jake’s loyalty, the warmth of Stiles’ love and the entire pack’s devotion to Peter. He’s moved to tears and the older wolf feels so powerful, renewed and revitalized by the bond. He’d grown to like the boys, even care for them in his time in their presence. How could he not? They included him and talked to him, they spent time listening to him and cared for him when he was feeling so lonely his heart was breaking. The love of his life is in this pack and how could he not love them for keeping Stiles safe and happy? They could feel another bond forming just as Peter felt it, and they felt like another piece of the puzzle had come together. They felt complete. 

It was perfect and nothing could ruin this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're finally at the 10th chapter! I apologize for the delay, I was finishing a class, had fall break and turns out a hurricane can really do some damage to your roof! Who knew? On the bright side, I now know how to install drywall! That's right, I'm a strong, independent woman (who has a man and very much appreciates him).   
> Anyways, thanks for waiting, here's an extra long chapter! We're gonna be progressing pretty quickly and you should definitely anticipate some longer chapters! We're on the last leg of our journey but don't fret, there's going to be something JUICY comin' along! Did you think I was going to let you get away with a purely fluffy fic?


	11. Told Us (We Were Doomed)

It’s raining in Sacramento. A hard downpour. It’s gloomy and humid.  _ What a day to get out of rehab _ , Noah thinks. He’s got his bag in hand and he’s just checked himself out. After three long months, he’s finally going home. He’s moved into outpatient therapy and he’s going back to Beacon Hills. He’s terrified, thoroughly terrified of going back and facing the damage, but he’s got to. It’s time to face up to it.

“Long time, no see.” Noah lifts his gaze and sees the last of his friends, Jordan Parrish. The hellhound smiles at him and it’s like seeing a ray of light in the darkness.

“Parrish,” Noah gives the man a hug, “It’s good to see you.”

“Enough with the mushy stuff, let’s get you home, huh?” Jordan grins, patting his friend on the shoulder. He’d been happy to come pick Noah up from rehab. The man was in terrible need of a friend.

“Home,” The man grows troubled quickly. He’s not even sure where to start with what needs to be done.

“Listen, Noah. . .it’s not going to be easy.” Jordan looks at the man with honest eyes and a small, burdened smile, “We’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

“I’ve done so much. . .I lost my job, my friends. . .my son.” Noah practically whimpers. He’d come to realize, in his sobriety, all that he’d done in his drunken rage. Of course, some of it is lost to his memory but he’s remembered the gist. He could fill in the blanks. He’d raged the minute his sober mind came to realize the damage he’d done to his life, to his family. His son, the last thing he had of his wife, was in the wind. He’d done irreparable damage that he had no idea how he could even begin to repair their relationship.

“Stiles is better now. He’s been with a pack that has helped heal him,” Jordan tells his friend as they drive through the rain, “He’s happy. He’s back in school and he’s seeing someone. They’re happy together and it sounds like they’re really serious.”

“He’s been talking to you?” Noah asks, eyes wide. He hadn’t been able to contact anyone outside of the center in the last three months despite a desperate desire to speak with his son if he could somehow manage to get into contact with him.

“We’ve been talking for a while, long before you entered rehab.” Jordan explains, “He hasn’t talked to anyone from Beacon Hills besides myself. I don’t think he’s wanted to speak to anyone. Scott is. . .complicated. He hasn’t been managing well and the territory is only barely hanging on under his watch. Derek is even more complicated. The bond to one of his two last living relatives is gone and-”

“What do you mean?” Noah asks worriedly, “Cora died? Or Peter?”

“No,” Jordan assures, “It’s a recent development. Peter’s bond is gone. They don’t know what’s happened to Peter.”

“ _ They  _ don’t,” Noah picks up on Jordan’s tone, “But you do?”

“It’s not my secret to tell.” Jordan admits, happy that his friend is still as sharp as ever, “Peter’s fine, more than fine. It’s more than I can say for Scott and Derek, however. The rest of the pack. . .well, they never really had a connection to Peter to begin with so they don’t notice the difference.”

“Really,” Noah thinks about this, “How is everyone?”

“It’s been different. Beacon Hills isn’t how it used to be, at least not for us. The pack might as well be disbanded. It’s not like they’re much of a pack. Everyone is so scattered and perfectly happy where they are rather than in the town that needs them.” Jordan turns a little sour at the topic, “Scott’s slowly turning into someone I’m not sure is fit to watch over the town. He’s possessive and haughty. He thinks he’s entitled to his power and everything that comes his way or  _ doesn’t _ . Derek’s turning dark again. Reclusive and sullen. Like he’s losing himself. I’m sure the bond between himself and Scott is thin as the others were. Scott’s ruined everyone he’s come into contact with.”

“Wow. . .” Noah is shocked, “That much, huh?”

“I don’t think anyone really realized the effect Scott’s pitiful excuse of a bond was doing to everyone.” Jordan’s hands grip the wheel tightly, “He didn’t notice how much everyone was hurting. I mean, Stiles was dealing with your alcoholism on his own. He was completely cut off from everyone and Scott’s indifference only made it worse. Derek’s too damaged to even begin to start thinking about other people. He had no one to go to.”

“How do I even start to put my life together?” Noah asks his friend.

“We’ll start by getting you back to work again. You’ve got your pension and it’s enough to get you on your feet for now, but you need something to keep you busy during the day.” Jordan tells him, “You need something to get you going again.”

“The only thing I was ever good at was being a cop. Now, I’ll never have that again.” He hangs his head in shame. 

“Noah, you’ve got more than that going for you. Being a cop is all you know because it’s all you’ve been doing for a long time. You’ve only ever known Beacon Hills and what has that Godforsaken Hellmouth ever done for you?” Jordan asks. His thoughts run too fast, “You’ve lost so much, given it all away until you had nothing left to give. Now you need to think about yourself.”

“What are you saying, Jordan?” Noah’s face scrunches in confusion, “You’re telling me that I should leave?”

“I’m saying that you should follow your son’s lead.” Jordan gives his friends a consoling look, “Honestly, this town is on its way out. The conflicting magic and all the pieces taken from the Nemeton have made the land unstable. Sooner than later, the town is going to collapse and fall off the map. Haven’t you noticed how people have been leaving for a long time now? At first, it was just a couple people, but then as more people kept dying, more people kept leaving. That town is just. . .ready to collapse. In the months that you’ve been gone, the place has been practically deserted. It’s as if the humans can sense the evil, the brokenness, the disparity. Now they’ve come to their senses and left.”

“You’re suggesting I just abandon the town?” Jordan could hear the anger rising in the man’s tone. 

“I’m suggesting you leave for your own wellbeing as literally, everyone else in that crap town is doing and as I will do eventually,” Jordan tells him honestly. “Noah, it’ll do you no good to stay somewhere that has sucked you dry.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” Noah says, staring down at the road ahead.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Jordan tells him, “There’s a lot out there that you could benefit from. I mean, if you could do anything what would it be?”

Noah shakes his head. It’s not possible to do whatever he wants. He’s still got debt to pay, he’s got a life and a son he needs to earn trust back from. He can’t just sit idle. He can’t just waste his time on a dream he can’t chase. 

“Don’t try and tell me that you can’t waste time on dreams. Dreaming is what’s going to make you happy. It’s going to give you a purpose.” Jordan chastises. 

“Jordan. . .it’s not possible. . .” Noah shakes his head.

“Humor me, Noah.” Jordan gives him a small smirk. He’d like to know exactly what’s going on in his friend’s dreams. The man looks doubtful but snorts lightly and shakes his head, chuckles and sighs.

“I’ve always had this dream. . .I’ve always wanted to homestead.”

“Really. . .” It certainly wasn’t what he thought would be one of Noah’s dreams.

“My dad was a drunk. Abusive. We lived on a small farm back when farming was a living and we had animals and horses and. . .working the land was the best part of my childhood.” Noah confesses, he smiles thinking of the days he spent riding his horse through the pastures and the feeling of dirt crunch under his feet when he walked through the fields. 

“So why not do that again?” Jordan asks, “Why not do what you want?”

“Because it’s not possible.” Noah laughs, “How could I possibly be able to homestead? I have no money, no land, no connections. Besides, I’m just one person and it’s not possible to just work land all by themselves. I would need help and people.”

“Well, you’ve already got me. I’m working on leaving Beacon Hills to burn as we speak.” Jordan sighs, “You haven’t been gone long, really. But things are already set into motion. Noah, when I’m in that town, all I feel is death. There’s so much of it that I can’t feel anything else. I’ve started sleepwalking again. I keep burning through clothes and it’s getting expensive. Something big is on the horizon and not like something we’ve fought before. This time, it’s like the whole supernatural gateway that is Beacon Hills is getting ready to close. Forever.”

“What, so Beacon Hills is just going to. . .implode?”

“I’m not sure, but something. . .natural, is about to happen. We’ve fought supernatural beings but we’ve never fought something completely natural-”

“With a supernatural twist?” Noah scoffs.

“There has always been a supernatural component to life, to existence. The supernatural is consubstantial to nature. They are of each other, linked together and one. One can’t influence one without influencing the other and the supernatural half is pulling the natural half into action. The supernatural gate to that world is closing. More like. . .slamming shut and locking with iron chains then fusing shut and evaporating to never be opened again.” Jordan explains. His hands grip the wheel tightly. Noah can practically smell the seriousness.

“So Beacon Hills is the Titanic and it’s hit the iceberg already,” Noah comments unhelpfully.

“Essentially.” Jordan chuckles, “Better to get in a lifeboat before that happens.”

“Great.” Noah rolls his eyes, “Now I can’t even try to sell my house.”

“You’ve still got your pension. That and mine.” Noah turns to his friend, shocked, “I put in for my two weeks. I’m on my way out, Noah. I didn’t resign my lease and I’m out as soon as I finish my two weeks.”

Silence falls over the two of them for a long time. Noah isn’t sure what to say. He feels like his world is shrinking just a little bit more. His wife is gone, his son left him and now his only friend is leaving him too. Where is he going to go? What is he going to do?

“Stop it.” Jordan barks, “Stop thinking that you’re alone, Noah. You’re not alone. You’re going to stay with me and we’re going to pack up your stuff. We need to get out soon.”

“Where are we going? Shouldn’t we let people know?” Noah objects, his heart aches for the people who aren’t going while the getting is good.

“Noah, trust me when I tell you that Beacon Hills is almost completely deserted. There hasn’t been an evacuation order and I have that rigged for two week’s time.” Jordan tells his friend. “It’ll be fine, believe me.”

“The town is really going to just. . .fall apart that quickly?” Noah asks, unsure.

“I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling that I have right now. Like there’s something looming in the air. This looming sense of death that’s just. . .growing and growing. Like a cup of water that’s about to overflow only it’s not going to overflow, it’s going to explode.” Jordan says. He looks over at his friend with a sad look in his eyes. “I am sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about this. I’ve already told Scott and his pack about this but I don’t know how much of it  _ didn’t _ fall on deaf ears.”

“Scott probably didn’t take it so well.” Noah rolls his eyes. He’d lost respect for his once pseudo-son when he’d really thought about how lonely Stiles must have been to leave town altogether and desert his pack. Scott had to have left his son behind long ago. For that, he would hate and feel no respect for the wolf, just as he feels for himself.

“No, he didn’t.” Jordan’s tone turns stiff and angry. “He practically screamed in my face. I think the breaking of the bonds is what’s driving him so. . .feral.”

“He’s going feral?” Noah asks, completely surprised at this new fact, “What about the rest of the pack?”

“They’re so scattered, it was always going to undermine the pack’s relationships. There was no way that the distance between each of them wasn’t going to affect their bonds. It’s insane to think that they could maintain a long-distance pack.” Jordan rolls his eyes, “Not to mention the fact that Scott’s been so self-absorbed lately to even bother talking to Lydia while she’s away at school.”

“Is there anything that boy does right?” Noah says, incapable of keeping the bitterness from his tone.

“He’s good at pushing people away. He’s effectively pushed Lydia out of the picture. When she found out why Stiles hasn’t been talking to her or why she hasn’t been able to get into contact with him, she was livid.” Jordan shakes his head, “Beacon Hills was supposed to be under his care. This pack was supposed to be under his care but he let everything just. . .die and decay under his neglectful watch. The territory was  _ his. _ ”

“Well now he’ll reap what he sews.” Noah sighs, “Just like I will.”

“Stiles loves you, Noah. You’re his father. You’ve been lost for a long time but not anymore. You’re finding your way and soon, you’ll find your way back to him.” Jordan gives his mentor a happy smile.

“He must hate me, Jordan. After everything I’ve done, after all I’ve put on his shoulders.” Noah says dishearteningly, “I failed him as a father.”

“You’ll fail him if you just cease to keep trying. If you don’t give up on trying to be in his life then you’ve truly failed him. You’ve gotten the help you needed. Now you can be his father.” Jordan tells him, “Besides, he doesn’t hate you, Noah. Stiles loves you. You’re his father and he’ll always love you. You were both hurting and Stiles did what he had to do to take care of himself as you did what you had to do for yourself. Now, time will find you both healed and in a place to come back into each other’s lives.”

They’re silent for a few minutes while Noah thinks about what the younger man said just now. When had Jordan gotten so wise? When did he see things so clearly? Did that come with being a Hellhound, that he just saw through everything and put it together again? Noah won’t know. He’s only sure that he hopes Jordan’s words come to be true. That he hasn’t lost his son completely. Claudia wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t give every ounce of effort into getting Stiles back. When he was sober for the first time in years, almost three months ago when he just entered rehab, he swore then and there that he would make amends with his son. He would do whatever it took to show Stiles that he loves him, that he could never blame Stiles for anything in this world, that he loves Stiles more than anything. He’d be da, med if anything stood in his way.

. . .

 

Scott puts his car into park in his childhood home’s driveway only to see a moving truck outside. He looks at it with confusion, the seeds of dread and anger begin to sprout in his heart. He walks into the house, the door is unlocked.  _ I’ll have to talk to mom about that,  _ Scott thinks. There are boxes in the hallway, boxes in the living room and all the furniture is gone. Then Melissa walks into the room with a couple of newspaper wrapped plates in her hand. She freezes the moment she sees Scott. She hadn’t told him that she was moving out of town. She hadn’t told him about anything going on with her especially the move because she knew Scott’s opinion on Parish’s news.

“Mom. . .what’s going on?” Scott asks, fairly certain he already knows what’s happening.

“Scott.” Melissa sets the plates in a box and stands confidently. She’s not going to bend to Scott’s will. Now when it means her life, “I’m sure you already know. I didn’t raise you to be that clueless.”

“Why?” Scott’s eyes turn dangerous for only a moment. Brown flicks crimson for only a moment, reminding Melissa of her boy’s Alpha status. His wolf doesn’t like that he’s being challenged.

“You already know.” Melissa remains firm in her convictions, “I’m not going to stay in a dying town. Despite your stubborn objections, this town is falling apart and I intend on getting out while I can.”

“It’s not falling apart,” Scott practically snarls. He’s pissed that Jordan managed to get to his mother, “Jordan is lying.”

“Why would he lie about something like this, Scott?” Melissa struggles not to raise her voice. She’s so tired of dealing with Scott’s denial and possessiveness. 

“I’m not sure! He probably wants control. Probably wants to get people to move out of town, especially  _ my _ pack. He wants  _ my  _ pack.” His eyes flash again and he feels the pricks of his fangs threatening to emerge. He’s losing control.

“Scott, stop.” Melissa holds up her hand, daring to silence her son, “Jordan is protecting the town, which is more than I can say for you.”

“How can you say that to me? I’m the Alpha of this pack and the protector of this town-” Scott objected angrily, his body shifts into a defensive position.

“You’ve only just recently moved back to town and you’ve only done that because you’ve suddenly become aware of the deteriorating state of your hometown.” Melissa rolls her eyes, “Don’t tell you that you care. You left Beacon Hills the first chance you could and barely deigned to return. You let your pack disperse, they sensed the danger here long ago and it’s been mounting ever since. You practically cut off contact with everyone here. Including Stiles. The boy you once considered your brother.”

“He left on his own!” Scott shouts in abject anger, betrayal thick in his tone, “Stiles couldn’t handle that everyone was moving on with their lives. He was always the clingy type. He couldn’t stand when I got new friends and he couldn’t handle when Derek told him to figure himself out. Derek didn’t have time to cater to his insecurities.”

Melissa comes to a standstill. She looks at Scott,  _ really _ looks at him. Her son, the boy whom she raised. The smiling little boy who didn’t take anything for granted. Her boy, the one that tried to protect her from an abusive alcoholic father. Where had she gone wrong? This boy in front of her had taken a turn for the worst. He had tasted power and been adulterated by it. He changed. Now Scott is angry, possessive, power hungry. Scott has morphed into someone that Melissa isn’t sure she can recognize as her son.

She narrows her eyes at him, taking in the tense look. The furrowed, angry brow, and the twitching fingertips. Scott is going to do something rash. She knows it. She also knows that she can’t stop it from happening. She can’t stop whatever Scott is going to do, but she knows that she can get out of his way. That’s exactly what she’s going to do. 

“You’re not going to stop me from leaving, kid.” Melissa tells him, “I’m moving with Jordan and Noah, we’re pulling our money together for a place.”

“Noah?” Scott’s eyes widen in surprise, “I thought he was in rehab.”

“He just got out today. Jordan went to pick him up.” Melissa tells him, “The man who was like a father to you had a drinking problem that I thought was under control until he kicked Stiles out and I realized the depth of your apathy to their struggles.”

“They could have sorted it out by themselves. Eventually, things would have gotten better, like they always have.” Scott says. He looks around the empty room, glaring at each box.

“You abandoned them, just like you’ve abandoned this town and the entire pack. I don’t know when you went so off the rails when you became like this, but you need to stop. You need to make amends with Noah and Stiles, you can still fix your relationships.” Melissa urges him. She hopes that there’s still a part of Scott that wants to change, that feels remorse. She hopes that his son is somewhere still in there. Scott is silent for a few minutes, he thinks about what she’s said, but the wolf in him growls and snarls that he’s done nothing wrong, there’s no regret, there’s no reason to fix what he’s done because he hasn’t done anything to warrant such hostility and loss of faith.

“I don’t have anything to reconcile,” Scott says. The finality in his town makes Melissa take a step back as if she’s been slapped. It takes her a minute to regain composure. Until Scott comes to his senses, she can’t do anything more. All she can do now is step out of his way.

“Scott, I don’t know who you are anymore,” Melissa rasps, feeling like a failure as a mother for having lost her son, “I don’t recognize who you’ve become. I see that I won’t be changing your mind. So now, I’m going to do what’s best for myself. I’m going to leave town like I’ve been planning and if you come to your senses, you can join me. I will  _ always  _ take you in, Scott. I love you. You’re my son but right now, you’re breaking my heart.”

“Just like that? You’re going to just. . .leave me?” Scott feels the fury rising up inside him, the pain in his heart from abandonment and rage in his soul at his mother turning her back on him. So he rages.

“I’m not leaving you, Scott. Now I would like you to leave so that I can finish packing.” Melissa says with serious eyes and a stern tone. She can sense that their conversation is taking an unpleasant turn.

Scott’s eyes glow red, he’s losing his control quickly and he knows he doesn’t want to hurt his mother. He knows he’s losing himself to the wolf in his rage, so he needs to go. He needs to go and figure out how he’s going to fix everything. So he does as his mother asks and storms out of the house. Melissa lets out the breath of air she hadn’t known she was holding and Scott has one singular thought.

_ I’ll bring everyone back. _

 

. . .

 

The night air is cool, the sounds of the city penetrate the quiet silence between the two lovers wrapped around one another. It’s a wonderfully pleasant summer night. Lying in the large bed are two warm bodies, curled around one another, tangled in soft satin sheets. The wolf cradles his love against his chest, his head propped on soft, cushiony pillows. His lover, his human, lays against a firm chest. The warmth radiating off his wolf is glorious and he thinks he could bask in it forever. He presses his ear against flesh and listens to the steady heartbeat beneath the surface, his eyes are closed as he listens. Their breathing is soft and calmed after the long and intense session of lovemaking they just had not too long ago. Their skin is still flush with heat. 

“Darling,” Peter begins, “I know you’ve already spoken with Jordan.” The wolf states gently. His voice is soft and oh so tender, his arms tighten around his lover so as to keep the man from fighting the conversation.

“Peter-”

“You can’t ignore this for long, my love.” Peter tells him. His blue eyes glow in the dark, illuminating Stiles’ dark eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” Stiles sighs tiredly, “I can’t let the man back into my life. Not when I’m still so. . .it’s all still so fresh.”

“This time a year ago, you left your home. You were cast out.” Peter nods in understanding, “But then you found the people you were always meant to end up with. You found me. You’ve healed more than you know and so has your father. Jordan told me he has gotten out of rehab recently. A three-month program. He’s completely sober again.”

“Why are you on his side?” Stiles asks almost bitterly. Peter can smell the hurt emanating from his lover.

“I am always on your side, Stiles.” Peter tells him, “I can’t tell you that enough. I love you, sweetheart, and you will always be my priority.”

“Then why are you defending him? Why is this so important to you?” Stiles asks curiously. He hadn’t given the last phone call to Jordan too much thought. Stiles had shoved the information about his father away and kept it at arm's length for nearly a week now. Only Peter had been able to notice how it was eating at the human.

“When I was eighteen and I went off to college, free from the pack for the first time, I discovered in my first semester that I favored men. I had gone an entire eighteen years without seeking companionship from anyone, too prejudiced towards humans and too suspicious of my own kind. It wasn’t until college that I was exposed to more packs, more supernatural creatures that I really began to pick out a pattern. I favored men over women.” Peter speaks softly still, recalling the story as if it were out of a book. “When I returned after my first semester, I knew I had to tell my family. I had to tell my father. A man who, was very staunch about what he believed and though he never forced his beliefs on us, I was still terrified about what might be his reaction.”

Stiles sits up to look at his wolf, to pay attention to the story. His hand rests over Peter’s heart as he retells this story from his family, from his past. Peter rarely talks about his family, this is a rare and precious occurrence for Stiles.

“When I returned and I sat him down first, I was fearful for his reaction the most,” Peter chuckles almost dryly, “He was shocked, understandably so. I had never shown any interest in anyone let alone men. So when he heard me, he was put out. He was angry and he said some things I prefer not to ever remember him saying. I loved my father very much but he was intolerant at the time. He didn’t understand and he didn’t think I could be what I said I was. It’s one of my worst memories. I relive it sometimes in my nightmares.”

“What happened next?” Stiles questions gently.

“I left the house.” Peter says stiffly, “I left and went back to college to stay there for the Christmas holiday. The first holiday away from my pack. My mother called me immediately, expressed her own sentiments and begged me to return. Told me that my father could stay somewhere else if he had such a problem with me and my lifestyle. But I stayed away. The bonds were rather painful that Christmas. I could feel my father’s indecision, his raw anger. I’m sure they could feel my sorrow, how depressed I became and how alone I felt.”

“The rest of your family was accepting though?” Stiles wonders aloud.

“Very accepting. They could never hate me.” Peter smiles happily as he thinks of his mother and her kind smile, how the Alpha spark burned brightly in everything she did. How loving she was. “My father came to me that year. On New Years Day, he showed up at my apartment and begged my forgiveness. He pleaded with me to forgive his words and harsh actions. It was the first time I had seen him cry. He told me that he didn’t hate me, that he accepted me and loved me, that now he had only to fear for the struggles I would face.”

“Did you forgive him?” Stiles asks almost absently.

“Not at first.” Peter admits, “I was still so angry, his words still so fresh. I was angry he forsook me for as long as he did and that I was alone for so long. It’s one of my greatest regrets not forgiving him right then and there. I wasted another couple months. I was so hurt. . .”

“He hurt you.”

“Yes,” Peter agrees, “But I lost precious time with him. It was only another three years before everyone died in the fire and I lost time. No matter how much time I lost, it was still time I could have been with my parents. It was time I missed from my pack.”

“I see your point,” Stiles sighs, laying back against his lover’s chest, “It’s just hard.”

“I know love.” Peter kisses the man’s hair, “I know that you’ll be able to find forgiveness. God knows you were born with the most forgiving heart I’ve ever seen. Besides, you know that your father was in a dark place and he hadn’t had the proper help he needed. Help that you couldn’t provide. Now he’s had it, and he’s a better man for it. Maybe it’s time to start forgiving him.”

Stiles nods, not willing to speak for fear of tears slipping from his eyes. He cuddles in close to his wolf and tunes out the world. He’s getting there, but he’s slow to coming around. He knows that Peter is taking it slow, just as he should. Stiles is going to forgive his father, however, Peter knows it.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Peter whispers to his love, “Sleep now, we’ll talk later.”

Stiles nods, “I love you,” He whispers, the truth in his words evident in the human’s heartbeat. Peter savors it. Those three words each time they leave Stiles’ lips. They’ll figure it out tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thank you for waiting! It was a struggle getting this one done. I had to really think about what I was doing and where I was going because I'm setting something up and it'll be a kicker. I just have to figure out how it's all going to fit together. My mind's been racing with new ideas for the next fic so I'll introduce that one soon! I love you guys and please keep commenting! I love hearing from you! <3


	12. X Won't Mark the Spot

The sky seemed darker. The evening air crisper, with a bite that seemed to grip the heart with dread. There were dense clouds in the sky and the moon was only a sliver of light in the sky. The city is bustling and no one could tell that there was something in the air. Given Stiles' experience with ominous evenings, one would think he would sense such a night and learn from his mistakes.

Stiles is running late.

He wanted to pick up some ingredients to make Peter kettle corn. It’s a simple recipe that he found online. He only needed three things to make it: kernels, sugar, and coconut oil. Peter had none of those things so Stiles thought that as a nice little treat, he’d pick up the items on the way to his lover’s apartment. However, Stiles hadn’t planned on being held late by his professor then having to wait for James, the one pack member who was usually never around when Stiles was there, to get out of the shower. 

Stiles is very late.

He’s spent the last few days pondering Peter’s words, thinking about what he shared that night they had been curled around each other. He thought about his father and he thought about his father’s emails. He had given Jordan permission to share his email with his father and Stiles thought that was a good first step. Only now he’s stuck repeating the words of his father’s latest email over and over again in his head. It's been a terrible distraction for him all day and now all he wants is to be with Peter.

Stiles practically runs to the car with the grocery bag in tow. It seemed like he got every single red light on the way to Peter’s. The universe could tell that he was in a hurry. It wouldn’t do to give Stiles a green light. So he taps his foot aggressively and grips his wheel with a tight grip. The grimace on his face only eases when he gets to Peter’s building. He throws his car into the parking garage and parks. He’s busy collecting his items, anticipation for seeing Peter building. He’s pulled from his thoughts by a tapping on his window, completely startled by the knuckle that tapped his window. He sees glowing red orbs for only a second when he manages a small shriek, and suddenly, the window is broken and the world goes dark. 

 

. . .

 

“Jake!” Peter shouts into his phone. No more than a minute ago had he felt a jolt of fear from the bond with Stiles and he knows that the rest of the pack felt it too. Peter practically flew down the stairs, too impatient for the elevator. “Something’s happened to Stiles.”

“ _ We know. _ ” The Alpha growls angrily,  _ “He told us he was going over to your place, is he there?” _

“I’m almost to the parking lot,” Peter says. He’s focused, all of his senses are trained in locating his lover. He sees Stiles’ car, sitting in his usual spot, but there’s something terribly wrong. The window is shattered, shards of glass are coated in blood and laying on the ground. Peter takes in the scents. Stiles’ shock, his fear, and his blood. He finds another scent, it smells rancid like sulfur. The scent of self-loathing and insanity. He smells blood, blood that doesn’t belong to Stiles. It belongs to a wolf Peter had hoped would never find them.

_ “Peter _ ?” Jake calls through the phone, getting his beta’s attention.

“Fuck!” Peter groans to himself. He beats the side of the car with his fists and feels the anger eating him alive. He should have been there, he should have protected Stiles. He should have-

“ _ What is it _ ?” Jake asks worriedly. The Alpha is already pacing inside his own home with the phone on speaker, surrounded by a very angry and very concerned pack. 

“It’s Scott.” Peter growls, “It’s fucking Scott. He took Stiles.”

“ _ Scott, your old Alpha? _ ” Jake sounds absolutely menacing. It takes all of his control not to crush the phone in his hands. How dare Scott? How dare this Alpha steal his beta away? How fucking  _dare_ he. Jake is already reaching for his jacket and car keys with the pack hot on his heels.

“He must have come here to find me and stumbled on Stiles first.” Peter funs frustrated hands through his hair as he stalks the residual scent trail Scott left. It ends abruptly at another parking spot where he must have parked his car and put Stiles in. He knows that Stiles wouldn’t have gone willingly so wherever Stiles is, he’s most likely injured or unconscious. His hackles rise and his wolf rears in fury.

_ How dare Scott come into my territory, to my home, and take what is mine _ , Peter thinks. He huffs in abject anger for a few moments, struggling to pull himself together. His mind races with all the possibilities. Where could he have taken Stiles? What could he possibly be doing to his vulnerable human? Has he gone completely insane?

“Scott took him.” Peter snarles through the phone, “And the trail is already gone.”

“ _ We’re on our way to you right now, we’ll figure this out.” _ The Alpha sounds equally infuriated,  _ “We’ll get him back, Peter. He belongs to us and we’ll get him back.” _

The growl he emits is threatening and it sends chills down Peter’s spine as a sick grin spreads across his face. He knows Scott is no match for Jake. He is no match for Peter.

 

. . .

 

The first thing Stiles becomes aware of is pain. His head is throbbing. The second thing Stiles becomes aware of is that his wrists are tied above his head, making his hands practically purple and numb. He’s in a back seat, a very cramped back seat. His legs had been shoved in close to his body in haste. He looks and feels like a body that had been stuffed into a car after a kidnapping. Stiles knows that Scott already knows he’s awake, there’s no faking that, so now it’s time to do damage control.

He hadn’t seen his ‘brother’ in a long time. It’d been years since Scott even bothered to acknowledge him in person. After he’d left Beacon Hills he’d sent an email but it wasn’t very nice and stiles opted to never open any of his mail ever again. 

“Scott,” Stiles’ throat is dry so his voice is scratchy, “What is this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Scott laughed as he used to when they were teenagers. Unbothered and unaware of the insanity. “I’m taking you home. You’ve been gone so long, we were all really worried about you, but now it’s alright.”

Stiles’ heart drops into his stomach. Scott is taking him back to a ghost town.  _ Had Scott really stayed behind despite the revelation that the town was going under? _ Stiles wonders to himself. Despite the wide, happy smile on Scott’s face, Stiles could see the look in his eyes. He could see the sharp canines behind his lips. The Scott he knew in high school is completely different now. He’s not the same man he used to be. He’s got that insane glint in his eyes, the same look that he remembers Donovan and Theo possessing. It’s the same look the Nazi wolf had. It’s all the same look. Like their souls are gone. Nowhere to be seen and the mind can’t take the absence so it shattered.

Stiles knows exactly who he’s dealing with now. 

“Scott, you don’t need to do this,” Stiles whispers hopefully, “Beacon Hills. . .it’s not safe there anymore, buddy.”

Scott’s smile slips from his face and a hard frown settles in its place. Stiles should have remained silent, he’s kicking himself for it now, because the glowing red eyes that turn to him are disturbing and they make Stiles want to curl up and die. It’s a bad Alpha. 

Stiles hadn’t been looked upon with crimson eyes in a long time, especially not with this much anger and hatred. His blood freezes in his veins. Scott snarls at his former friend and pulls over, puts the car in park then swings on his captive. Stiles prepares himself for the blow, but not for the claws. Scott’s razor sharp claws rake across Stiles’ cheek as he’s struck by Scott’s powerful hand. The human gasps at the contacts and lets out a squeak of surprise when his head hits the window harshly, intensifying his headache. He turns his eyes to the insane Alpha, forcing the tears back.

“Beacon Hills is our home,” Scott grits through his teeth, “It’s where you belong.”

Stiles nods, stiff from fear. Helpless but to agree. Scott seems satisfied with Stiles’ admission and turns back to the wheel and resumes driving. Stiles works to control his breathing, struggling to dampen his panic. He reaches for the bonds to his pack, strumming on them like the strings on a guitar. He silently begs for help through the bonds. He gets an answer almost immediately. Worry and fear, hope and strength. Overwhelming love. It doesn’t help much, however, because all these feelings seem to do is send Stiles into overload. He wants to be at Peter’s. He wants to be in his lover’s bed, safe. He wants to see his pack again. He wants to be in a puppy pile. He doesn’t want to die.

He wishes he could speak through the bonds, he wishes he could do more than send them waves of pain and sorrow. He wishes he wasn’t so weak. Then it dawns on him and he feels the panic more keenly. Scott just scratched him. His claws ran deep. They drew blood and he’s sure he’ll have a scar there if he doesn’t turn from it. He hadn’t contended the idea of being a wolf in a long time, but now he’s forced to think about it again. Can he turn from this? He doesn’t know. He guesses he’ll find out soon enough. It turned Jackson. Sort of. 

Is that what he’s going to be?

A sort of?

He doesn’t want to find out. He never wanted to be a wolf and it’s ironic that the choice had been taken from Scott and now it’ll be taken from Stiles. He starts to become hysterical thinking about that irony. That cruel irony. Now his lover, his pack, is going to have to fight for their beta from a cruel Alpha imposing his will on another.

Stiles only hopes that they’ll get to him before Scott gets the mind to claim Stiles once more. He’s not sure he could handle being under Scott’s thumb once more. 

_ I want Peter _ . Stiles thinks miserably. 

He curls in closer, trying to alleviate the pain in his hands, and works to muffle his panicked breathing. He focuses on the bond, focuses on the anchor he has in Peter. The bond is shaken, the first indication that Scott’s scratch is beginning to change things, but it’s still there and it’s still strong. The other bonds are wavering under the force of another bond that is worming its way through the others with Stiles’ true pack. Scott’s bond is imposing and dark. It’s not warm and it’s certainly not loving like the others. Stiles feels fear even more keenly, knowing that the bonds are being forced out. 

He clings onto the bond with Peter, practically winding psychological tendrils around it, making it the basis for his sanity. He clings onto Peter with all he has, with all his soul. The warmth he feels makes him feel better. It feels as if his brain is being cuddled in warmth like Peter’s arms are wrapping around him and he’s convinced that Peter is going to find him. He has to.

 

. . .

 

“What the hell are we going to do?” Jace paces around Peter’s apartment angrily, worriedly.

“I just got off the phone with Jordan,” Peter sighs, rubbing his forehead, “He has no idea what’s happening, he and Stiles’ father already moved out of Beacon Hills.”

“Why did they move?” Jake asks.

“Because that town is getting ready to implode and according to the Melissa, Scott’s mother, Scott wasn’t a believer. Odds are, he’s taken Stiles back to Beacon Hills.” Peter tells them, “Fucking idiot is going to get both of them killed in a town that’s going tits up.”

“So let's go get him!” Jace throws his hands in the air and exclaims.

“We can’t unless we know for sure that’s where Scott’s gone,” Peter scrolls through his phone and finds the number he’s looking for.

“Who are you calling now?” Tim asks.

“My nephew,” Peter growls. He waits for Derek to pick up the phone, still angry that he even has to call his nephew.

_ “Peter.” _ Derek’s monotone voice comes through after five rings.

“Nephew.” Peter greets with a stone cold tone, “I assume you’re leaving Beacon Hills as we speak?”

_ “I’m getting on a plane in twenty minutes, uncle. What do you want?” _ Peter can feel Derek’s glare through the phone. Peter is only slightly taken aback by his nephew's voice. He knows that Derek hadn't bothered to contact him in years, though phones go both ways. It's no time to beat himself up over not calling Derek sooner.

“Scott’s gone off the deep end. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Peter says, “He’s taken Stiles and I need to know if he’s going back to Beacon Hills or if he’s going somewhere else.” It’s silent for a moment and Peter knows that Derek is thinking about something.

“ _ He tried to get me to stay and honestly, he doesn’t know I’m leaving. He won’t know until he gets back to my loft and sees my note. Then I know the bond is going to break and he’s going to be furious.” _ Derek informs Peter,  _ “I know that he was going to try and get you two back but I didn’t know how far he was going to go.” _

“And you didn’t call to inform us?” Peter practically growls. He knows he’s never been that close to his nephew but he would have thought that if something bad were coming their way that Derek would have chosen to warn them.  _Do I really mean so little to him?_ Peter thinks bitterly.

_ “As I said, I didn’t think he would go so far as to kidnap,” _ Derek answers rhetorically. Then it dawns on Peter just how jaded and unconcerned Derek really is. The man has completely shut down and gone totally apathetic. He knows the boy has gone through so much trauma, more trauma than anyone should have to endure and come out the other side disenchanted. It hurts Peter. It hurts to think that Derek will never be his family again, that the boy he grew close to when they were younger is no longer the same person. He’s no longer that snarky, sarcastic but sweet mama’s boy he knew. That ship is sailed and sunk a long time ago. Derek is cold and unwelcoming. He’s hardened by years of being on the run, being hunted, being used. He’s broken in every sense of the word. However, if anyone could understand that, it’s Peter. Peter thinks about all the wrong he’s done. Killing Laura, coming back from the dead only to continue hurting Derek, then coming in and out of his life. It wasn’t easy on Derek. Peter knows he could have been better to him. But Derek could have been better too. Derek left him in that hospital to rot without protection or pack. He severed all ties with Peter then left with Laura all those years ago. He left Peter as an omega, locked in his mind, left to burn. He left Peter to be abused by the hospital staff. He left him to rot. Then in his insanity, he targetted Peter. He never trusted his uncle again, never thought of him as family and never wanted to be near him. He could barely stand to touch him. 

“Where are you going now?” He asks out of curiosity. 

_ “I got a hold of Cora a day or two ago. Her pack is willing to take me in on a trial basis. I’m moving to South America.”  _ Derek says, “ _ I think it’ll be for the best.” _

“You’re never coming back. Are you?” 

“ _ No.” _ Derek answers, tonelessly.

“Have a good life then, Derek.” Then Peter hangs up. He doesn’t feel the emotional backlash at that moment, but he knows he will later. He looks to his pack and they can tell that Peter is hurting right now, but the only solution is to get Stiles back.

“We need to get moving.” Jake interrupts the silence and decides the best thing to do now is get everyone mobilized, “We need to get to Beacon Hills as fast as we can before Scott realizes that another one of his betas is gone.”

“Jordan has already informed the rest of Scott’s pack to stay away and that soon, they most likely won’t have an Alpha.” Peter says darkly, “Because when I get there, I don’t care what happens. I’m going to kill Scott.”

“We’ll help.” Jake says, laying a firm hand on Peter’s shoulder, “We need to go now, I think something bad has happened to Stiles and we need to get to him before something worse happens.”

The pack nods and rushes to collect their things and get to the cars to head to Beacon Hills. Peter knows that with the speed his car is capable of, he’s going to get to Beacon Hills first, and God only knows the hell he’s going to unleash on Scott if he’s harmed one single hair on his mate’s head. 

 

. . .

Stiles doesn’t say another word. He sits in silence, doing his best to block out Scott’s easy chatter. His friend hasn’t shut up. He keeps going on about how the pack is getting back together again. He regales Stiles with memories from the past. Memories that Stiles remembers very differently. Scott’s cheery tone makes Stiles feel sick and he’s only barely able to give nods and fake smiles. Stiles briefly wonders what is running through Scott’s head, why is he like this? He doesn’t remember Scott being psychotic when they were younger. Is it the wolf in him? An Alpha gone mad by the loss of his pack bonds? It happened to Peter once, maybe that’s what’s happening to Scott.

It isn’t long before Scott pulls into a familiar town, then a familiar parking lot, to a familiar building. It’s all so nostalgic that he thinks he might die. He had hoped he would never be there again, he’d hoped he would never set foot in this town and as he passed it, he looked out to see empty homes, empty buildings and a completely deserted town. It reminded him of Buffy. The last episode. Only without the battle. There’s no battle here. The town is just going to collapse. He imagines in a Buffy-like event. He’s not sure. Even Jordan couldn’t say for sure. One thing he does know, is that he doesn’t want to be here. 

“Alright, I’ve gotta get some food started. I’m starved!” Scott exclaims, “I even got curly fries and hot cheetos, just like when we were little.”

Scott’s eyes are vacant and his smile is so wide it reminds Stiles a bit of the Joker. That terrifying smile makes Stiles shiver. Scott unties Stiles from the backseat and helps him out of the car. Stiles is happy that his hands are free, they’d started turning purple after a while and now he can actually feel the blood rushing back. He is helpless to follow Scott into the building. His ex-Alpha’s hands are firm on his back and shoulder as he’s guided into the building, he knows one wrong move, one wrong statement to shatter Scott’s reality and he could crush one of Stiles’ ribs or his colarbone. 

Derek isn’t there. 

It’s the first thing Stiles realizes because Scott leaves him on the old couch in the living room and Stiles notices that Derek’s jacket and the one framed photo of his family that Stiles had given him several Christmases ago is gone. Stiles closes his eyes and tries to level his breathing because he knows when Scott notices the slip of paper on the coffee table. . .there’s going to be a lot of anger and Stiles is still, for the moment, human. Scott is busy in the kitchen getting food together when a tremor rocks the building. It feels like a small earthquake, but Stiles has a feeling, a sick feeling, that things are going to get worse very quickly.

He feels the tremmor in his feet, taking in the vibrations as they travel up through his bones.  _ How long has the earth been shaking like this? _ Stiles thinks. He takes this silent time to think about his mother and her grave. They scattered her ashes in the woods as per her request, but now the earth is going to swallow this town. Where are her ashes going to go now? Where is Peter’s family going to go?

He doesn’t want to keep thinking about it. 

Stiles feels Peter’s bond sending urgency though to him. Peter is on his way. Stiles feels a thrill in his spine. Peter is coming for him. He’s going to see his lover again. They’re going to kick Scott’s ass. It’ll be a wholesome couple’s activity. 

“So I thought we’d watch Deadpool 2?” Scott re-enters the room with a tray of food. “We didn’t get to go see the premier like we usually do for new Marvel movies.”

“Sure,” Stiles manages. He curls against the opposite arm of the couch and tries to act as normal as possible. Until he start healing, he doesn’t want to indicate to Scott that he’s going to be a problem.

“I’m not sure where Derek is.” Scott rolls his eyes, “He’s probably out running. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Can’t seem to get him to stop, the guy is constantly working out.”

“He doesn’t really need to get any more buff, does he?” Stiles asks gently. Carefully.

“Right?” Scott laughs. The oven beeps from the kitchen and Scott gets up to go attend to the food. “And the food is in!” He calls from the kitchen, ever so mirthful.

Stiles can’t count the times he’s watched Deadpool 2 with his pack. He doesn’t know how many movie nights they’ve done where they lay on the floor and cuddle. Though no one really likes calling it cuddling. Stiles concentrates on the bond Peter is still strumming like a guitar. He needs to focus on that bond because if he doesn’t, he’ll see that the other bonds are-

Scott pauses the movie.

“Can you feel that?” Scott asks, staring out the window.

“What?” Stiles doesn’t want to know.

“The bond?” Scott whispers. The Alpha closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in relief. Like he’s starting to feel something concrete again. Scott has been out of control, his Alpha running nonstop in his mind’s eye, howling incescantly. He’s been driven crazy by the secered bonds of his pack. His most loyal betas. . .gone. There was no one left. Until he brought Stiles back. Now, somehow, there’s a solid bond. Another beta. 

Stiles feels sick. He wants to rip out his own heart. He wants to tear at his soul so he could rip out the bond and stomp on it. He feels likes he’s been ripped from everything he loved. He feels like he’s dying.

Scott is smiling.

Stiles wants to rage.

“I’m sorry I scratched you,” Scott grins and moves closer to him, “You just gotta know that Jordan was lying, he’s lied to everyone about this town. Beacon Hills is our home and now that I’m back, I’m going to get the pack back together. I never meant to turn you but now, since you’ll be strong, we can kill Jordan together! He’s taken my pack, taken all of them and once he’s out of the way, everyone will come back. It can be just like it was in high school. We’ll all be family again. I know you left a while back but it was just a little disagreement, brothers fight every now and again and that’s okay! We’re brothers, Stiles and now, I’m your Alpha again. Everything is going to be perfect again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for hanging on! It took me so long, I know, I'm very sorry. The semester is starting to gear up for finals here in the next three weeks and things have been absolutely insane. All three of my planners are booked solid. I will be on break here soon which means I'll be getting some solid writing time in which is great. I really appreciate all you dedicated followers, I can't tell you how much I love and cherish your support, each time I post I feel elated to break you something new and I can't wait to announce my next fic.   
> I hope you enjoy and I hope to hear from you soon!


	13. Your Zenith

There are four things that Peter knows to be undeniably true. Four things that he knows will always prove to rule over his life and there is never a point in fighting these four things because they always win. They are four principles that he gave in to long ago and have since lived by. 

The first: Murphy’s Law is real. It’s real and very _very_ pointless in fighting. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. It’s as simple as that. Peter let someone into his life and now he stands to lose that person that he built all of his sanity on. Peter found a pack that he loves and now that he’s going to kill someone, they’re not going to want him any longer. They’ll see the dangerous side that they’ve been warned about. They’ll see just how monstrous Peter can be, how insane, how untethered and amoral. 

The second: ignorance is not bliss. He doesn’t know what has happened to Stiles and Peter finds that completely unbearable. He can’t stand the thought of Scott laying a single claw on Stiles’ perfect chestnut haired head. Peter wants to know exactly what’s happening to Stiles right now so that he can plan on what kind of punishment he’s going to doll out to their former Alpha. Peter doesn’t think there is a punishment ever created that is fair enough for his crime.

The third: you can’t unring a bell. Scott took Stiles and didn’t just  _ ring _ a bell. Scott fucking destroyed that bell. It is unreasonable to assume that Scott didn’t know exactly what he was doing by taking Peter’s mate. How could he possibly not know? Peter and Stiles’ scents are perfectly intertwined, one in each other and impossible to separate. Scott had to have known that Peter would follow his mate to the ends of the world and hunt whoever hurt him even farther. Scott didn’t stand a chance the moment he took Stiles.

As he races down the road, Peter thinks about his Stiles. He remembers the scrawny boy that ran with wolves. He remembers the not so scrawny boy that saved him from the wild hunt. Then he remembered the beautiful man that was sitting in his courtroom that day. From the minute Peter laid eyes on him, he knew that Stiles was going to be his. Now that he finally has Stiles, he’s not going to lose him to some stupid Alpha that thinks he’s hot shit because he went insane. News flash Scott, you’re not the first to go insane because of the Alpha spark. 

Peter begins to slip into Scott’s shoes, thinking about how Scott is thinking and operating at this moment. The Alpha spark is an intense thing, it enhances personality considerably. Jake is a good example of a stable and strong Alpha. He is enthusiastic, kind, good-natured and strong in character and conviction. When Jake’s Alpha died and passed the spark to him, his personality was enhanced and made stronger. Jake became stronger. He became a beacon for stability and love. He became a safe place.

Peter was aggressive, self-seeking, devious and manipulative. He was Talia’s left hand. He was a diligent soldier, he went where she told him and did what she told him to do. When the fire happened, he was driven insane by the pain of the severed ties to his loved ones. He was turned angry and resentful by the abandonment. He was vindicated by murdering his niece. All of this was exacerbated by the Alpha spark. It was a great relief, though Peter would never admit to it, that he was relieved when the spark was taken from him. It was finally quiet in his head after it was gone. His wolf laid practically dead after he was stripped of the spark, he was exhausted. He needed rest and a lot of it. 

Scott. . .well, Scott is much the same. He was clingy, over-excited and hyper-focused on himself. It was always about him, no matter what, things had to benefit him. _ Scott _ wanted to make the first line.  _ Scott _ wanted to have a girlfriend.  _ Scott _ wanted Allison.  _ Scott _ wanted to avoid killing (when it wasn’t convenient for him).  _ Scott _ was only ever in pursuit of what he wanted. He wanted to go to school, he wanted to pursue what he wanted as opposed to what was best for the pack or best for Stiles. Scott wanted things to be like they were in high school.

Peter shakes his head, pushing himself from his thoughts. He pushes a little harder on the accelerator, pushing his car a little harder. He lost the rest of the pack twenty minutes ago, his car’s power and speed much greater than the pack’s car. He’s almost to the loft, barely thirty minutes away now and he’s pushing the shift back as hard as he can. He knows the moment he pulls into the parking lot, Scott is going to know he’s there and that he’s coming for him. He’s sense another wolf and he’ll want to attack. Peter also knows that the moment he careens into the lot, he’s going to wolf out and want blood. Scott’s blood. 

There will be no negotiating. 

There will be no deals. 

There will be no mercy. 

 

. . .

 

Stiles is clinging to Peter’s bond, curled deep against the arm of the sofa he’s currently cowering into. He can feel Peter getting closer and loser and he’s clinging to that fact because, with the loss of his pack ponds, he’s about ready to lose it. Scott is making more food, he’s hungry again. The movie has ended but he’s gearing up to put the next one in while they wait for Lydia to return Scott’s call. He had tried getting ahold of her earlier but she didn’t answer. 

Stiles speculates that she’s severed all ties with Scott but he’s still trying to get her to answer. He still believes that he’s going to bring the pack together again. Stiles knows better. He knows that she’s most likely seen the red flags and cut contact. She doesn’t want to be under the thumb of any man let alone the thumb of an insane Alpha. She got out while she still could. He knows that the rest of the pack followed suit. He hasn’t heard from any of them in almost two years. He doesn’t even know what’s happening in their lives and honestly, he thinks he’s fine not knowing. Stiles is glad they got out. He’s glad that they were able to break out of Scott’s cruel grasp. He’s only envious that they aren’t his current focus. Though, he thinks that they are possibly next on Scott’s to-do list. 

Stiles feels the cut on his face begins to knit closed. Tears begin to burn like fire in his eyes and he feels his jaw clench in an effort to keep the tears back. Bile rises in the back of his throat and he feels sick to his stomach. Stiles feels as if his destiny has finally come to fruition and he’s been cheated out of his humanity. For a moment, he mourns it. He mourns the loss of something he fought for tooth and nail for years. Even in high school when his life was threatened time and time again, he never thought that losing his humanity was worth what he would gain. His humanity was precious, it was what made him different from the rest and connected him to the real world. He clung to his humanity in times of trouble. 

Now it’s gone. 

He’s a werewolf now.

And he has a fair shot at escaping now.

Stiles works to control his breathing as his mind works a mile a minute at a plan. He won’t make it out the door and out the building faster than an Alpha, thought he could probably make it out of the window. It would hurt and he would need to recover instantly because as soon as his body runs through the glass, Scott will be hot on his heels and if he takes more than a moment to shit and git, he’s not going to make it. If he can’t outrun Scott, he’s dead. Scott won’t be happy if he catches him. Stiles thinks and when he sees Scott turn into the stove, busy with something, he knows this is the best chance he’s going to get. Taking a deep breath, he feels the strength in his body, abounding strength that he can now access. He feels an unfamiliar burn in his irises and knows that they must be glowing. 

In an instant, he is at his feet as silently as he can. He breaks into a dead sprint, knowing that he must obtain the strength to break through the windows and clear the car in the lot by the door. It’s only a two-story drop. . .he can do that, right?  _ Now or never. _ Stiles thinks. He runs as hard as he can, no time to marvel at the speed he’s managing. As his body makes contact with the glass, he closes his eyes tightly and bursts through. He can hear Scott’s angry shout and growl, knowing the Alpha is already on his tail. He feels dread build up in his belly, he knows he has no hope of making it. He’s a freshly turned werewolf and Scott has insanity on his side. All the air is knocked out of him as he lands on his feet on the edge of the road. He can see the road leading out of town, clear and empty, lit by only a few streetlights. 

He feels his shins protesting at the treatment but he can also feel his muscles and bones healing almost instantly. So he breaks out into a desperate run. His blood boils in his veins and his heart pumps hard in his chest. He can’t keep the desperate grunts from leaving his lips. His desperate desires for freedom, for Peter, break free. He knows Peter is close and if he can just get close to him, Peter will know what to do. He can help Stiles. Peter can save him. He runs furiously, not daring to look behind him to see the angry, glowing red eyes of a crazed Alpha. No, he doesn’t have time to look behind, he’d die if he turned around. He knows that. 

“Stiles!” Scott’s enraged growl sounds as if he’s right behind Stiles and it sends the new wolf into overdrive. He tries to push his body harder, as hard as he possibly can but he doesn’t know how far he can get.

Stiles only makes it two miles when he’s tackled to the ground. Scott’s body feels like he’s being hit by a truck, the force he’s slammed to the ground with is so immense he feels ribs breaking under the pressure. He lets out a scream as he tumbles in the dirt with Scott, clawing at his body. Scott is perched on top of him, eyes crimson and fully shifted. He’s dark and terrifying, no longer the puppy Stiles remembered in high school. He feels the fury leaking through their sickly bond. He feels unstable, like Scott. 

“You. . .you tried to run?” Scott is genuinely confused, “How  _ could _ you? I brought you back! I turned you! I’m your Alpha and you run from me?”

“You’re insane!” Stiles spits. He feels fangs against his lips as he snarls. If he can’t outrun Scott, then he’ll just have to fight his way out. He’ll die trying. Stiles slams his forehead against Scott’s and takes the Alpha by surprise. He wiggles out from under Scott’s imposing form and just as instantly as he felt trapped, he feels manic. He feels like a wild animal that’s been cornered. Scott feels challenged and can’t see anything but red. He loses himself to his wolf, completely gone. Wild rage fills him and he attacks. Foaming at the mouth, Scott grows impossibly larger as the wolf takes over. Scott rushes Stiles in a frontal assault and swipes at him blindly, furiously, and with wild strength. Stiles dodges Scott’s claws, jumping back and forth, all over the place. Stiles is panting, his whole body protesting at the physical exertion. He feels Scott’s claws just grazing across his skin a few times but the Alpha manages to land some hard blows. Razor sharp claws shred into his skin and he feels hot blood pouring down his side and shoulder and leg. He howls in frustration when Scott latches onto his right bicep with his jaw, it feels like his entire arm is snapping like a twig under the pressure. 

Stiles doesn’t feel pain anymore. Adrenaline is flowing through him like a rushing river and he’s fighting as hard as he can. Stiles slashes his new claws powerfully across Scott’s face and rips through the Alpha’s eyes, making his former friend roar in pain and anguish, backing up enough to give Stiles time to begin running away from the deranged Alpha. He still doesn’t feel his wounds, the mad scramble to get away from Scott is blocking out all that pain and hurt. Stiles can run, he can fight, and he can feel strips of flesh hanging from his body but he can’t feel pain. He runs as fast as his injured body will let him. 

“Stiles!” Scott screeches. He’s clutching his eyes, still nothing but red blinding his mind’s eye. He starts storming towards Stiles in the direction that he hears his beta limping off, “If I can’t have you, I’ll have your power.” Scott’s menacing growl sends a shot of ice down Stiles’ spine. 

Stiles thinks about an old memory at that moment. Deucalion. He thinks about the Alpha that killed his pack for power. What pushed him to do that? What pushed him to take those lives, steal their power, and become something so heinous. Stiles thinks he knows now. 

He was insane.

Sometimes the best answer is the simplest answer. 

And that is the fourth thing Stiles knows to be absolutely true. He thinks about this bitterly as he’s repeating,  _ Scott is insane _ in his head over and over again so that it makes it easier to justify killing the man that was once his brother. 

_ Peter, where are you? _ Stiles cries in his head. He tries to ignore the sob that threatening to rip out of his throat. It’s making his throat swell with the stress of it. He’s taken completely by surprise when Scott tackles him to the ground again. They go for another tumble, a jumble of limbs, claws, and fangs. Tearing into flesh. Stiles roars, a roar that never thought he’d hear from his own mouth. It surprised him for a moment, though in the next he gave in to the new wolf inside him. The animal that wants to live. The animal that will do anything to kill the one who has hurt it threatened it, abandoned it. All sense fades from his mind and he fights like a cornered beast. He fights harder than he’s ever fought before.

He struggles to get his arms out from under him, Scott has him pinned pretty good. There’s a sense of panic, of claustrophobia and he feels another stab of adrenaline run through him. Scott never was that good of a fighter, he was always too sloppy, too overconfident. He leaves himself too open for hits. Stiles sees his legs, wide open and vulnerable. He lets out a powerful grunt bringing his knee up as hard as he can to knee Scott in the groin. The Alpha lets out a roar of fury, powerful and loud. Stiles feels his ear pound and explode. He kneed Scott so hard the Alpha was knocked off of him and for a moment, sidetracked. It gave Stiles the time he needed to get up and start hobbling away once more. He could see headlights down the street and hope grew in his chest. 

“Peter,” Stiles croaks, “Peter. . .”

He’s limping as quickly as he can and doesn’t hear the rampaging Alpha behind him with a burst eardrum. The Alpha speaks his claws through Stiles’ shoulder. The new wolf screams and completely halts in his movements and falls to his knees. He looks down in horror and sees the tips of Scott’s claws peeking out of his shoulder, he can feel Scott’s rough fingers wiggling in his shoulder. He’s in so much pain he’s no longer able to just run on adrenaline. He feels all the pain then and it slams into him like a freight train. He hears the screech of tires on asphalt and the growl of a pissed off Alpha. 

“Stiles!” Peter’s mighty roar resounds loudly through the air and Stiles can hear the deep, dark growl of his mate. 

“Peter.  .” Stiles’ voice breaks. He looks up at his mate, desperately hoping that it isn’t the last time he gets to look into those glowing blue eyes. Eyes that Stiles has come to love so much. Scott’s sadistic laugh fills the air and chokes Stiles with his glee.

“I’m going to kill him!” Scott shrieks, “And then I’m going to kill you!” 

“Why don’t you come and get you sadistic, insane fuck!” Peter growls menacingly. He runs at Scott and challenges the Alpha. Stiles hasn’t seen Peter this pissed in years. Scott rips his claws out Stiles’ shoulder and steps away from the injured bata. Stiles falls onto his hands and then on his face, he’s clutching his shoulder, hoping to God that he can heal.

Peter sees his mate fall to the floor in pain and smells the blood, the agony, it’s all he can do to focus on Scott. He wants to kill Scott. He wants to force the Alpha to the ground and put him in just as much pain as he put Stiles in. Just as easy as breathing, Peter brings out his claws and fangs. He fights harder than he’s ever fought before and Scott is an easy opponent. He’s formidable, as a complete feral Alpha, but he’s easy to take down because of that. Scott might have youth and the Alpha spark on his side, but Peter has experience on his. 

The Alpha slashes blindly, unable to focus and strategize. Peter is strong and he’s uninjured. He’s able to dodge and observe. He’s able to see Scott’s weaknesses that coincidentally, haven’t changed over time. Peter slashes at Scott’s sides, landing two hard blows to the rib cage. Scott roared in his rage and got an arm around Peter’s neck, twisting as hard as he could, but Peter turned into the twist and shoved an arm up into his ribcage. One, powerful thrust into the ribcage and Peter can feel his heart, a warm, quickly beating thing. It’s thrumming powerfully and Scott looks up into Stiles’ eyes. Crimson flickers up into ice blue. Peter’s fangs are bared and he’s growling lowly in his chest, still running on hate. Peter grips the heart and he squeezes it in his strong claw. Scott has halted all movement.

“I knew one day. . .I’d be the one to kill you.” Peter growls through his fangs. “Seems only fitting since I made you what you are.”

Blood flows out of Scott’s mouth as he gurgles a pitiful growl. Stiles watches from where he’s fallen to the ground, mixed emotions run rampant. Stiles is bleeding out, barely able to hold onto consciousness, but he feels like he still owes Scott  _ something _ . At least, the Scott he knew growing up. The Scott that he made friends on the playground with, the Scott that adopted him as his brother. The Scott that spent countless nights on the couch playing video games with him. Stiles mourns his brother. He mourns the man he knew. He mourns the brother that helped put his mother in the ground, he mourns the brother that shares his own mother. In no way could he mourn the wolf, the Alpha that forsook him. He couldn’t possibly mourn the insane, power-hungry, madness that Scott is now. 

Peter, unceremoniously and mercilessly pulled the Alpha’s heart out of his chest. Scott let out a squawk of pain, eyes looking at Peter like he couldn’t believe what was happening and after no more than a few moments, the Alpha fell to the ground, dead. 

It’s over.

Stiles felt a tear falling down his cheek. The only tear he gave for Scott. He feels the bond to the Alpha snap and he knows that Scott is dead. Gone. The emptiness is painful but it’s better than that sickly bond. 

In an instant, Scott was forgotten and Peter went to Stiles’ side, still holding Scott’s warm heart in his grasp. He could feel the Alpha power flowing in him, and it was overwhelming. The claim over the land was sick and he could feel the bond to his home like a putrid, rotten rope. It made him feel sick and it became clear why Scott was so insane. This sickness in the land had eroded Scott’s bond to his sanity. Scott’s insanity was only a symptom of the disease. 

“Stiles,” Peter’s voice breaks. His composure slips only slightly but Stiles sees it and knows that he can’t possibly be in good shape. Peter throws Scott’s heart in the dirt, abandoning it. 

“That-” Stiles coughs and groans in pain, blood spatters across Peter’s chest, “Bad?”

“You’re going to be just fine, sweetheart,” Peter sets to work, putting pressure on Stiles’ injuries. Massive slashes all over Stiles’ body, he had been practically torn to ribbons by an Alpha. Injuries that don’t heal easily.  _ He’s been losing too much blood,  _ Peter thinks almost frantically.  _ How do I fix this? Fuck, how do I fix this? _

“Took you long enough,” Stiles chuckles brokenly. Peter looks to his mate, eyes beginning to water. Stiles has only seen Peter emotional a handful of times and he doesn’t want to believe that his death is going to be another occasion for Peter to slip into darkness. “I love you,” Stiles says breathlessly as his lungs fill with blood.

“You are not going anywhere so don’t sound like you’re saying goodbye, Stiles. I forbid it.” Peter says sternly.

“Peter-” 

“No, Stiles. No. Let me just try to stop the bleeding, then we can-”

“Peter.” Stiles raises his voice and stops his mate from rambling. “Stop. Just be with me. For however long we have left.”

“Don’t say that,” Peter says hoarsely. “You are not dying today.”

“You know better than anyone that this isn’t good.” Stiles smiles weakly, “So just be with me. For the last time.”

Peter shakes his head in denial, tears burning his eyes, “No, No, Stiles.” He thinks about all that he’s lost in his life, bitterly. He lost his family, his mind and his home. He lost the majority of his life and he only just gained it back when Stiles came into his life and chose him for a mate. He can’t lose Stiles after only just having him for such a short time.

“My mate,” Stiles lifts his pale hand to Peter’s cheek, resting it there. Peter brings his bloody hand up to cover Stiles’ weak hand, letting Stiles go limp and continue to keep his fingers on Peter’s cheek. “You showed me unconditional love, something I never thought I would ever have. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Stiles.” Peter lets the tears fall then, “You brought me back to life, showed me that it wasn’t over for me. That I still had love to give and that someone could still love me.”

“You deserve love,” Stiles whispers. He feels the energy slipping out of him with every drop of blood. 

“I deserve you,” Peter cries urgently. He holds Stiles in his arms tightly, crying over Stiles’ broken body, wondering how long it will take the pack to get here. They should see Stiles before he passes. They should say goodbye.

“I love you, Peter, more than-” Stiles is interrupted by a wet cough, his lungs are filling impossibly fast and he’s gasping for air, “anything.”

“And I love you, my mate.” Peter hushes Stiles, “Try to rest.”

“Tell-”   _ gasp _ “Tell the pack-”  _ gasp “ _ I love them.” _ gasp  _ “and thank you.”

“I will,” Peter whimpers helplessly, thinking as hard as he can to try and find a solution.

“Tell dad,”  _ gasp _ “I forgive him.”  _ gasp _ “And I love him. I’ll see mom soon.”

“Stiles,” Peter whispers to his lover, “Please don’t leave me. Not now.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles gasps, “I could never give you what you’ve given me.” He coughs again, feeling numb now. The pain is gone and everything else is gone too. He thinks it’s because of something bad. This time he thinks it’s because of something bad. It’s because he knows he’s dying. Stiles closes his eyes, too tired to keep them open.

“No,” Peter jostles his mate lightly, “Stiles keep your eyes open. Baby keep them open, please.” He begs. Stiles is too tired, he can’t open his eyes again. He can’t keep going.

“Please!” Peter screams, “Please, I love you!” 

He begins rocking back and forth, holding Stiles tightly and begging for his love to return. He thinks about Stiles, about the time they had together and how much time they were supposed to have and he grows bitter in his sorrow. It’s so overwhelming that he feels like he’s choking in it. He feels like his heart is breaking in two and he wishes he were dead too. There’s no more anger, it’s fallen to the wayside, no longer the primary emotion behind his loss. He can only feel this powerful sadness. It builds so fast that Peter is sure he’s dying. He lifts his chin, taking in as much as his lungs alow and he lets out a long, sorrowful howl. 

Only two miles out, the pack is racing to the loft, having lost Peter long ago, they’ve been understandably upset. When Peter’s howl carries through the air, they are the first to hear it. They know what it means and sadness fills them as their hearts break. Jake almost crashes the car when the emotion slams into him and he realizes what that howl means. They’re speechless, not sure what to say to make this better. They know that Peter is going to be inconsolable, hell, they feel inconsolable. They lost their packmate. They lost their brother. A piece of them is gone and they feel it deeply. It feels as if one of their limbs has been cut off.

Peter feels like half of him has been cut away. Excised. Gone. Never to return.

He feels broken.

Peter howls until they arrive, even after they come to a screeching halt beside the pair, Peter is still howling into the night, crying for his lost mate. Jake kneels beside Peter and places a careful hand on the wolf’s shoulder, trying to console his packmate, but the tears streaming down the Alpha’s face don’t hide his own sadness.

“Peter,” Jake whispers, calling his beta back.

“I couldn’t save him,” Peter says brokenly. He looks up at his Alpha and reveals his eyes, a bright crimson. The pack shudders in surprise, “I’m an Alpha, now. And what good is it, being an Alpha. Having the motherfucking Alpha spark when I can’t even save my mate.”

Jake doesn’t have an explanation. He doesn’t have an answer for his friend. What do you say to a man who’s just lost the love of his life? Once again, sometimes the best answer is the simplest answer. Jake decides that nothing could possibly help. So instead, he settled on consoling him with a firm hand. 

“Peter, we need to get out of this town.” Jake says, “We need to take him home.”

“I-” Peter’s voice all but shatters, “I can’t move him. I can’t fucking move. I can’t breathe.” He whimpers. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. We all loved Stiles, and I know he was your mate.” Jake whispers, “If there was a way to bring him back if I had the power, you know I would.”

“It’s not enough,” Peter growls, “He wasn’t supposed to die! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! We should be at home, in bed. He should be in my apartment, we should be together. He should be safe! Warm!” Peter looks down at Stiles’ still face, broken by the lack of a heartbeat. Stiles’ heartbeat. He used to lie on Stiles’ chest with his ear to his heart, listening to the fast-paced, steady beating. He used to wake up from nightmares and listen to Stiles’ heart to reassure himself that he was alive, that he wasn’t still stuck inside himself. There’s no heartbeat anymore. There’s no more reassurance and now, Peter feels more stuck than ever before.

“Peter. . .” Jace whispers to his packmate, taking his blood covered handoff of Stiles’ chest.

“He’s so cold.” Peter cries. The emotion rocked the pack and if they weren’t in tears a moment ago, they are now. They feel his loss. Stiles’ body is turning to ice so quickly. He can’t even feel the earth shaking underneath him because he’s so focused on Stiles. The pack feels it, however, and the quake is terrifying. It brings them to the remembrance that the entire town is going to collapse. 

“Let’s take him home,” Jake says again, hoping to urge his friend to remember what is happening with the town. 

Peter sits still, staring at Stiles’ face. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain and if Peter didn’t know any better, then he could fool himself into believing that Stiles was just sleeping. He remembers the last time the grief was this bad. He remembers when he lost his whole pack. When they were burning, when he was burning. He remembers when he died when he was resur-

When he was resurrected. 

His eyes light up and his back straightens as he remembers. He can’t resurrect Stiles how he was resurrected. Stiles wasn’t enchanted before and didn’t have any of the preemptive measures for the spell. He can’t raise Stiles like that. He could-

Cora.

Derek sacrificed the Hale family Alpha spark in exchange for Cora’s life. 

Peter can do the same for Stiles. 

Peter channeled the Alpha spark, not just any spark either, a  _ true Alpha _ spark. The most powerful of them all. He feels it passing through him in a powerful wave, the power surges in his soul and he works it through his intent.  _ Heal Stiles _ , Peter chants in his head,  _ Heal my mate. _ He feels the power working through him and it’s painful, like cutting out his eye or his kidney. It hurts and he finds himself howling again. The pack is scared away briefly. They back away as Peter wills the power to bring Stiles back. He has had no pulse for only a few minutes, barely enough time to be dead, barely enough time for Stiles’ soul to leave his body. 

He feels pain in his body. He’s not sure if it’s his pain or if it’s Stiles’ pain but he doesn’t care. He’s hopeful. He believes with all of his soul that he can bring Stiles back. Stiles begins shaking and there’s a gasp. His eyes are still closed but Peter’s heart is beating so hard and fast that he’s beginning to believe he can actually hear Stiles’ heart beating again. He feels the power leaking out of him as if it’s draining into Stiles.  _ Take it, take all I have _ , Peter thinks. 

He gives it all.

It all comes to a startling halt when he feels a burning sensation in his irises and he knows that the spark is gone. He’s a beta again. He looks down at his mate, he’s laying still, but there’s a heartbeat. He can finally hear Stiles’, wonderful heart. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He sees Stiles’ injuries begin to heal quickly. The slashes on his body knit closed and his bones reform. Peter feels his throat close up with happiness, with relief. 

“Stiles,” Peter cries to his mate, holding him close to his heart, lifting him so Stiles’ face is pressed against his own so he can hear the man’s breathing. “Baby, open your eyes.”

The air is still. 

Everything stops and waits.

Then blue meets brown and it’s like the world is alive again. Peter’s world is bright again. He can breathe again. Peter thinks Stiles’ coffee brown eyes are the most beautiful things he’s ever seen and he vows at that moment,  _ I will never let this man out of my arms. No one will ever hurt you again _ . He can’t take his eyes off of his mate, too terrified that Stiles is going to slip away once more if he takes his eyes off of Stiles.

There’s another powerful tremor that Peter actually feels, now that Stiles is awake, Peter is filled with another urgency. He needs to get Stiles out of this town before it collapses. He gets his shit together and lifts Stiles into his arms as gently as he can. 

“We need to get him back.” Peter’s voice is still shaky but it’s getting better and all he wants to do is get himself, his mate, and his pack back home so they can lay together and reunite as a pack.

“He’s alive?” Jace asks, wiping away his tears.

“How did you do that?” Jake questions, not hiding his amazement.

“I’ll explain on the way out of town.” Peter assures them, “He’s going to be weak for a while and I’m not sure how long. I just want to get all of us out of town and back home so we can put this whole town behind us.”

The wolves all nod and are still getting over their shock but there is nothing that a long drive can’t cure. Peter asks Tim to drive his car back to the pack house. Peter is going to ride in the pack’s van with Stiles laying in his lap. He’s not willing to let Stiles go for even a moment. The wolf needs to continue touching his mate purely for reassurance. They’re quick about getting on the road and getting out of town. Tim and two other wolves get in Peter’s car, barely giving Scott’s body any credence. They send a venomous look to the dead wolf’s body before getting into the car and that’s all.

“Should we take the body with us?” Jake asks, “Maybe his mother wants to bury him?”

“Let him rot,” Peter says darkly. It’s vindictive and horrific. He knows that Melissa is going to be upset at not having the chance to bury her son, but Peter wants Scott to rot. He wants Scott’s body to lay here until the earth swallows him up with the rest of the town. Scott wanted to stay here and ride out its destruction.  _ A captain should always go down with his ship, _ Peter thinks bitterly. He turns, with Stiles laying in his arms, to look at the broken Alpha one last time. There is no love lost and after this day, he’s not going to think about Scott. He’s not going to wonder what happened, what if, what next. No, Peter is going to close this chapter for good. Beacon Hills will no longer exist for him. 

They get on the road, speeding out of town as they race away from the danger. Peter sits in the back of the van with Stiles in his lap, laying in a familiar position to them both. Peter strokes his mate’s face with a calm, steady finger. He had stopped shaking when he heard Stiles’ heart beating. Peter knew it was going to be okay once he heard Stiles’ heartbeat once more. He stares intently down at his mate,  _ he’ll want a shower _ , Peter thinks. He doesn’t want his mate to wake up covered in dried blood. Peter doesn’t want Stiles to have to think about this trauma ever again. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Jace asks quietly, reverently holding Stiles’ hand in his.

“He’ll be fine,” Peter assures the boy. He smoothes Stiles’ hair gently against his head. 

“He’s a wolf now. . .isn’t he?” Jace says morosely, “That Alpha turned him against his will. Stiles never wanted to be a wolf.”

“No, he didn’t.” Peter whispers, “A long time ago. . .I asked him. When I had the power to turn him, I asked him if he wanted to be a wolf. I still stand by what I said long ago. Stiles would make a magnificent wolf. Though Stiles valued his humanity above all else and despite all of his friends becoming something otherworldly, he decided that his humanity was precious and he never felt like he had to be a part of this club. I respected that.”

“He will be a great wolf.” Jace nods sadly.

“He’ll be truly magnificent.” Peter agrees with a small smile, “I’m regretful that this is how it had to happen, but it seems fate can’t be derailed.”

“How did you know to how to bring him back?” Jake asks curiously. To that question, Peter looks pensive for a moment, deep in thought.

“The Hale family has lived in Beacon Hills for hundreds of years. My mother once told us that the Hales were originally wolves that, once harsh winter centuries ago, were starving. The wolves roamed the woods in the land and came upon a great tree, one that had powers unknown to man. The wolves took shelter in the tree’s massive root system, sleeping inside the tree. On the full moon, the old magic harbored inside the tree, combined with the light of the moon and it converged on the wolves. Magic was woven into that was how the first werewolves were created.” Peter says reverently. Remembered the story that he had been told over and over again as a child. He used to beg his mother to tell him this story, “So some wolves from the first pack left, they spread out and migrated upon realizing their power to claim more land. There were few that stayed, few that turned the humans that populated the area, bringing them into the pack. Over time, the Hale pack grew and became deep seeded with the land. Our power, our relationship with the land was strong. The Alpha spark that was so deeply ingrained in our Alpha only grew in power. The Hale line was the strongest of them all.”

“What happened to it?” Jace is enthralled by the story, he leans in closer to Peter as if to hear every syllable that comes out of Peter’s mouth. 

“My nephew used it to heal his sister. The spark itself changed hands several times before it settled in Derek. Then Cora was sick, close to death and we were desperate. It was only by chance that we discovered a sacrifice of massive proportions was needed to heal.” Peter tells him, “I’m not saying that Cora wasn’t worth saving, there are so few Hales left and Derek needed his sister. I wasn’t enough for Derek, especially not after what I’d done. No matter how many times I apologized, no matter what I possibly did, I couldn’t rectify our relationship. When Cora showed up, the long-lost sister, well Derek only ever wanted her. He clung to her. In the end, he got them both away from me.”

“You are not like that, Peter. You weren’t in control, and you weren’t thinking clearly. They weren’t completely blameless in the situation either.” Jace reminds him.

“I know.” Peter says solemnly, “I have come to terms with what I’ve done. You all and Stiles are the only family I ever need.”

“Stiles. . .Stiles was dead, gone, how did you know for sure that he was going to come back?” Jace’s wide eyes are almost childlike.

“I didn’t know for sure.” Peter admits, “But I had hope, and I knew that Stiles wasn’t going to go into that dark night without a fight.”

Jace smiles, the air around them loosens and eases. Peter holds Stiles loosely, comfortably, and leans back. He can relax now. His mate is alive and on the mend, they’re out of that condemned town and on their way home. Their greatest threat is gone forever.

_ Everything will be alright now _ .

 

. . .

 

Getting back to San Diego wasn’t as relieving as the guys thought it was going to be. Being in their den, locked in for the night made them feel better, but it wasn’t like it used to be. No one felt safe any longer. The city was no longer a sanctuary. Though Jake filed it away as an issue to tackle another day. Getting back to their house, they all scrambled inside, quickly locked the doors and closed the blinds, sealing themselves inside. The Wolves made quick work of the living room, bringing mattresses down as well as pillows, blankets, lights, and food. They made the comfiest den they could possibly assemble at their Alpha’s orders. Though they were all exhausted, their nervous energy was used to create this in order to spend the night surrounded in pack. Above all things, they wanted to reestablish themselves with one another. The bond with Stiles is still missing and it put the rest of them on edge. 

Peter, however, wasn’t apart of the net building team. Peter didn’t even look at anyone before lifting his mate into his arms and carrying him upstairs to the master bathroom where a large tub is waiting to be filled. Jace follows Peter and helps the man get a warm bath started for Stiles. Peter is content to simply hold his mate while the youngest of them set about filling the tub with hot water and soap, getting Stiles and Peter some towels, and quickly getting their clothes from Stiles’ drawers. 

“We’re all going to get cleaned up before we settle in for the night, but you take as long as you need,” Jace says quietly. He takes his leave and goes about his business, not daring to touch Stiles just yer. Once the door closes, Peter locks it and sighs. He’s been yearning for this part the last three hours. Taking care of his mate is all Peter wants to do. He’s gentle when handling Stiles’ limp body. Carefully pulling away Stiles’ filthy clothes, one article at a time. He lays Stiles in the tub gently, careful not to jostle his lover’s body. He quickly disrobes himself then climbs in the tub behind his lover. He pulls Stiles’ body against his chest and contentedly lays Stiles’ head against his shoulder in the crook of his neck. With practiced hands, he takes a washcloth and lathers it in soap and cleans his mate’s skin. The water is tinged pink so Peter lets the water drain as he cleans his mate while more water fills the tub. The process is long but Peter’s body is strong and his wolf urges him on.

Once his mate’s body is clean he gently massages shampoo into his lover’s chestnut hair. Rinsing it out makes the water murky again but Peter doesn’t mind the refilling process. Once they are both clean and the tub is clear again, he lays back and just holds his mate. He relishes in the privacy of their moment and is simply present. In this tub with Stiles, he’s warm and he’s safe. They lay there for a few minutes, Stiles locked in a dreamless sleep state and Peter, stuck in a tub. 

“Stiles,” Peter whispers to his lover, “If you can hear me, I just want you to open your eyes.  _ Please _ .” He whispers desperately. 

He strokes Stiles’ cheek carefully but with firm pressure so as to hopefully wake his mate from his slumber. Stiles is completely healed and now all that’s left is for him to wake. They sit there for a few more minutes in the slowly cooling water before Stiles’ breathing picks up ever so slightly. Peter holds his own breath as he waits for his mate to awaken. Stiles is slow to it, he’s groggy and he’s got phantom pains all over his body, but somehow he’s comfortable. He is slow to awareness. He glances up at his mate an gives a small, tired smile.

“Peter. . .” Stiles’ voice is sore and he is barely coherent, but he’s coming back.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Peter smiles, “You’re alright, my love.”

“Scott-”

“Is dead.” Peter manages to keep the growl down. “He’s never coming back.”

“You killed him?” Stiles asks.

“Yes.” Peter answers simply. He runs his fingers down Stiles’ belly, gently caressing. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Stiles admits, “Good, really. You. . .brought me back?”

“Of course I did,” Peter chuckles, “I would give anything, everything for you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Stiles nuzzles his nose into Peter’s neck, feeling relieved that he’s still with his mate. “I think I’m ready to get into a puppy pile.”

“Then let’s get you dressed.” Peter smiles. Stiles is still shakey and tired so Peter does the majority of the heavy lifting. He happily lifts his mate out of the tub and dries his body as if he were worshiping it. 

“I love you,” Stiles whispers into Peter’s ear. The wolf turns his head to lock eyes with his mate. Stiles smiles kindly at his mate, his heart begins to heal. 

“And I you, my mate.” Peter smiles back, “Come now.”

Peter helps Stiles dress and pulls his own clothes on before they walk side by side to the den. The moment they step out into the stairs, they see their pack and every wolf’s head snaps to the pair. Peter all but carries his mate down the stairs and passes him into the waiting arms of the rest of the pack. They all converge onto him as he is placed into the nest. Stiles soaks up all the attention, curling against all of the wolves with a small smile on his face. No one comments on the misty nature of his eyes or the flush that covers his cheeks. They practically roll in each other’s scents and the bond between the pack and Stiles quickly snaps back into place as if it were never missing. This time, Stiles feels the bond far more strongly. If he thought it was a tether before, this time it’s an iron chain. A boat chain on one of those destroyers. It’s a thick, indestructible chain that emits a warmth so strong it’s like Stiles has his own personal fireplace in his chest. It brings Stiles to tears and suddenly he’s gasping, unsure of how he could possibly feel this connected to the others.

With Stiles back in the fold, the pack is finally complete. Their missing puzzle piece no longer missing. They fit together so wonderfully that the comfort they were missing when they arrived back at the den, it’s no longer missing. Everyone is exhausted, especially Stiles, and they’re finally letting their guard down enough to sleep. Surrounded in heat and love, Stiles is able to shut down and fall asleep. With his mate by his back and his packmates all around them, he’s safe and secure. Tomorrow they can talk about what happened, tomorrow they can talk about what needs to be done, tomorrow they can deal with everything that has happened. Now, now they need rest. 

There wasn’t a single thought given to a newly deceased Alpha. 

. . .

 

“What do we do now?” Stiles asks his mate. He lays on top of Peter’s chest, fingers playing with his right nipple, teasing it into hardness. He briefly marvels at Peter’s responsiveness as the nub takes only minimal ministrations.

“We do whatever you want to do.” Peter chuckles at his lover, pushing his hand away before Stiles starts something they won’t finish.

“I’m almost done with school. . .” Stiles states plainly, “Once I graduate, what do we do?”

“Do you want to stay in San Diego, darling?” Peter asks.

“I don’t know. After everything. . .maybe staying here isn’t the best idea. Plus, I think I’d like to go back to small town living.” Stiles thinks out loud. “I feel like there’s not enough room here, everything is so crowded and packed in this town.”

“What could we possibly need room for?” Peter chuckles, running his fingers through his mate’s hair. Stiles practically purs under Peter’s fingers.

“Don’t get mad at me?” Stiles asks timidly. This gets Peter’s attention. The older man adjusts them so that Stiles isn’t craning his neck upwards. “We could use the room for.  . .for kids? Maybe? One day?”

Peter is silent, surprised by Stiles’ idea. The younger wolf had been thinking about kids recently, wondering if he might one day want them. They didn’t seem like such a bad idea and now that he’s getting his degree soon he’ll actually be able to start his career. He could get a job virtually anywhere being an investigator and he knows that adoption takes a long time. Peter hadn’t thought about having kids in a long time. Even before his coma and the death of his family, he’d been working so hard on his career that he never slowed down enough to really consider it. Then after he woke up and everything happened, he didn’t think of it once until now. He sees the earnest, almost fearful look in Stiles’ eye and immediately hugs his lover tight.

“If you want children, then we can have them. I’m not opposed to the idea at all, though I think if we are to move, then we should be fairly strategic about it.” Peter tells his lover. Stiles untensed instantaneously in Peter’s arms and happily nuzzles into his mate’s chest, “Besides, Jake and I have already been discussing moving, I think now would be a perfect time to get the ball rolling on all of this.”

“Really?” Stiles asks hopefully.

“Of course, darling.” Peter smiles, kissing his mate’s forehead, “We are looking to the future and nothing makes me happier than knowing I’ll get to spend it with you, my love.”

“You old sap,” Stiles teases. He reaches up and kisses Peter deeply. For a moment, they are locked in heated passion and Stiles opens his golden eyes to meet Peter’s ice blue. He grins devilishly and goes back to playing with Peter’s nipple while maintaining eye contact with Peter, “Now. . .I think I’d like to go for round three.”

Peter growls and flips him onto his back, pressing him into the mattress with a hot kiss. Their bodies slink together in a damp embrace, evidence of their earlier lovemaking evident on their bodies and the sheets. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Peter growls with a smirk before attacking Stiles with kisses. The younger wolf laughs and kisses his mate.

“I love you, forever,” Stiles whispers heatedly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always.” Peter answers his lover. 

 

Stiles thinks then that if one believes in Murphy’s Law, then they also had to believe in the opposite. That if they truly believe that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, then they must also believe that whatever can go right, will go right. He realizes at that moment that he must believe in both extremes for the law to be relevant and true. Stiles thinks at that moment that possibly, whatever could go right in his life, has. He has Peter, he has a loving pack, he has a strong Alpha. He’s even rebuilding his relationship with his father (slowly but surely). Maybe, just maybe, Murphy’s Law isn’t the only law out there that has power over Stiles’ life. The young wolf certainly hopes so. And even though he’s learned four crucial rules in his life: Murphy’s Law, ignorance is  _ not _ bliss, you can’t unring a bell, and sometimes the best answer is the simplest answer; he’s learned several exceptions to the rules. 

After all, he’s made it this far in life. 

_ What could go right? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end and I dragged this one out, didn't I? I'm sorry for your long wait! I won't bother with excuses but only say that I am so happy with how much support I got on this fic! I couldn't have done it without all of you, every single one of you who have left messages for me or gave me a kudo. I truly appreciate all that you've given me and I hope that you're all having a fantastic holiday!   
>  Some announcements:  
>  -I will be posting a new story here soon (hopefully). I'm just trying to figure out which story I want to go with but it will definitely be a Steter fic because I think I wanna break into this pairing.  
>  -My writing gets better and better with each story so I hope you keep your eyes out for my next fic!  
>  -If you don't want to wait and are in need of something interesting to read, please look at the other fics I've written and drop some feedback! (shameless plug)
> 
> Lastly:  
>  I just wanted to say thank you again! I love you guys and whatever you want to tell me, I'm all ears whether it be suggestions or notes for the chapter. 
> 
> Happy Holidays!


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